A Traveller's Tale
by Greta Jameson
Summary: Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy reluctantly team up with the three friends to bring Voldemort down for good.
1. A Midsummer Night's Scheme

A Note from the author: Hogwarts and all of the established characters attached to it belong to JK Rowling. The original characters and backstory in A Traveller's Tale, I would like to claim as my own (if it is legal to do so). Miranda Traveller the telepath and spy is her own person and woe be unto the being who tries to own her.  
  
A note to those wishing to adhere to canon: This is not a Mithrandic tale of light versus dark, but rather an exploration of power and how it affects people who seek it, hold it and even those who turn their backs on it. It is set after the end of book four.  
  
And please, don't take it so seriously – I just make this stuff up.  
  
Enjoy!

* * *

**A Traveller's Tale  
  
by Greta Jameson  
  
1: A Midsummer Night's Scheme**  
  
The last light from the setting sun shared the sky with the first stars of the moonless midsummer night. Fireflies signaled to each other, and crickets began their songs as clouds gathered outside of Hogwarts castle.  
  
Albus Dumbledore, the school Headmaster gazed out of the tower windows and contemplated the coming tempest. He stood for several minutes with his hands on the leaded-glass windows watching the storm roll in from the east. The warm winds whipped against the open panes and rustled his long silver beard. He had been expecting a sign for months, but the rains had come only now.  
  
"Voldemort is mustering his forces for war," the woman at his side said silently. "With my own eyes I have seen them rebuilding the Druben fortress. They're tunneling underground - a vast pit for all of their vipers."  
  
"Yes, my dear, He is growing stronger. I fear that he will soon test our preparedness. We must do more to make our selves ready," Albus thought. "I'm very glad that you've come to help us, you know."  
  
"I'm glad you asked me to," she smiled as she looked out over the lake and the verdant fields surrounding the school. "It's so very good to be home."  
  
He closed the windows against the gusting wind, smiled down at her and said aloud, "Come dear, it's time."  
  
Their footsteps echoed as they walked down the torchlit corridors towards the Great Hall. With no students to distract, the sentinel stones of the old castle whispered to Albus as the first drops fell. Soon, sheets of rain soaked the earth and lightning raged. After a few angry minutes, the rain eased to a gentle shower and Dumbledore entered the hall.  
  
The cavernous hall was lit only at the front where the Hogwarts' Professors sat eating their supper. The rest of the room, which always bustled with students during the academic year, slipped off into an inky blackness.  
  
Dumbledore took his place at the center of the table and raised his arms clad in grey brocade as he began his announcement:  
  
"With the beginning of the academic year almost at hand, I wanted to inform you that the Board of Governors has come to a decision concerning the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor." Silverware and crystal clinked as the entire faculty stopped eating and drinking and listened closely as his words echoed through the hall. Severus Snape, Master of Slytherin House and Professor of Potions, held his breath and waited as Dumbledore continued:  
  
"Miranda Traveller is a remarkable young woman who I have known personally for many years."  
  
Snape closed his eyes and looked inward. Yet one more year he would have to wait.  
  
The oak door behind Dumbledore creaked on its ancient hinges and Miranda stepped to his side. She wore a dress that was azure like the early evening sky. It had strings of eight-pointed silver stars sewn into the fabric with metallic thread, and sparkled when she moved. Her dark brown shoulder- length hair was parted on the left and pulled straight behind her ears. Matching jewelry adorned the base of her neck and ears with blue and white starlight.  
  
"She is a resourceful and powerful witch," Dumbledore continued, taking her hand, "with experience far beyond her years in detection and defense. Her gifts are transformation and telepathy."  
  
"Telepathy, that's really rare! Where did you find her, Headmaster?" asked Professor Binns, teacher of Magical History. "There are only a few adults in all Europe!"  
  
"Another freak," muttered Snape; disgust putting an unpleasant edge on his usually silky baritone.  
  
"This is her first time as an instructor," Dumbledore went on, "but I think she will be an excellent addition to our staff. Over time, she will become a fine and I think beloved teacher," he added, kissing her fingers. "Please extend a warm welcome to her."  
  
Light applause filled the Great Hall as she took the traditional place at the table for Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor - next to the Potions Master, Severus Snape.  
  
The house elves sent up her food and wine. She placed her hand over her goblet, and asked for water, because wine and telepathy don't mix - at least not well. From across the room, she heard Leland Miller the new Design Professor think, "Oh, my!" as he walked over to her, running his hand though his short dark hair.  
  
"Professor Traveller?" Miller asked.  
  
"Yes . . . I suppose so." She said turning to him, with a small smile.  
  
"Bienvenue," he said, raising her right hand to his lips.  
  
"Merci," she answered, demurely.  
  
"That, I'm afraid dear, is the extent of my French. But, if you would be interested, I would like to show you around our lovely school, say, after dinner?  
  
"Yes, thanks, I'd like that," she said, not wanting to go, but not wanting to refuse any invitation.  
  
Miller went back to his place, leaving Miranda and Snape to eat in silence for several minutes. She felt him trying to recognize her, as he kept comparing her with the visage of every dark-haired woman he had ever met. Snape sensed that they had met before, and he wondered when and where they had met - and under what circumstances. He had not wandered freely in the world since he arrived to teach at Hogwarts years ago.  
  
It had been years since she had last seen him, and he looked so much older and paler than the image of him she held in her memory. She smiled to herself though, to see that some things were still the same. His black hair still hung straight to his chin and he still carried himself with an air of self-possessed superiority that he had so long ago. She wanted to tell him of the many times they had helped each other. But instead, she turned to him and said, "Good evening."  
  
He nodded, and replied, "Yes, it is . . . I wasn't aware of your arrival. When did you get in?"  
  
"Earlier today."  
  
"And where did you come in from?"  
  
"Most recently, Romania, but before that Russia, the Far East, Africa. . ."  
  
"I see. And you are a telepath. That is a strange and rare gift. Very poorly understood."  
  
"No, and yes," she replied. "It's not as rare as it seems, but it's still poorly understood. You see, very few telepaths live freely. Most are never recognized and never trained to block out the cacophony of voices they hear. Some wind up in hospital. Some are driven to violence by the voices and wind up dead. Some are strong, and undergo a sort of self- training. These telepaths somehow survive, but often fall prey to excesses later on. They feed upon others' thoughts and memories, and live twisted lives."  
  
He didn't know that there were unrecognized wizards and witches in this day and age and asked with genuine concern, "has anyone ever tried . . . "  
  
"Yes, and we failed miserably," she answered quickly. "It seems that there is a narrow window of time in childhood when training and intervention can be successful. If the proper training is not received, the brain doesn't develop correctly, and it's not possible to help after that."  
  
"And this happens right here in Europe?"  
  
"All over the world, Severus."  
  
He started at her use of his familiar name and a long strained silence followed.  
  
"Tell me, Miss Traveller," he asked, not wishing to address her as Professor. "What brings you to Hogwarts, really? You have no prior teaching experience, and it seems a little unusual for you to . . . start at the top."  
  
"Well I think that teaching is . . . an honorable profession," she began haltingly, unprepared for his sudden attack. "And I wanted to share my knowledge of self-defense with young people. So when Albus offered me the job, I jumped at it."  
  
"Yes, you must know him quite well. He usually doesn't KISS the new hires."  
  
She stared coldly at him as she replied, "He is an old family friend. It was he who recognized my telepathy, and made sure I received the right training when father had all but given up on me."  
  
"Ah, your father. And what does he do?"  
  
"He manages the Ministry's Office of Transformations, but back then he was just an auror. Did you ever, run into him, back then?"  
  
"Not that I can recall," he said quickly to avoid a discussion of his own past. After some silence, he continued more politely, "Albus made no mention of your extraordinary travels. Do you have a profession, or were you just seeing the world?"  
  
She stiffened as she lied, "I have worked for Albus since I left Beauxbatons."  
  
"Doing?"  
  
"Reporting on technological developments in the muggle world - larger trends and discoveries."  
  
"Since when have muggles become the concern of the aurors?"  
  
"We have been watching them for about the last twenty years - since they developed weapons that could inadvertently destroy us. Anything that poses a threat to our world is now monitored."  
  
"Observing muggles is a horrendous waste of time and money, he said coldly.  
  
"Perhaps it is. But you know we have a common ancestry. Long ago, we just chose the rational, and they the spiritual."  
  
He rolled his eyes, but she continued, "Muggles are born everyday with the seeds of wizardry in them, and some secretly cultivate their skills. If we could just get beyond our prejudices, we could learn so much about our origins from these cases."  
  
"We are self-directed and, yes, usually rational," he said angrily, clutching his knife like a weapon. They are full of lust and greed and violence and live to satisfy their appetites." .  
  
"Yes. True, all true. They can be horribly primitive. But we can learn from them, even if they choose not to learn from us. Don't you see, by casting them as separate from ourselves, we can never use our knowledge of them for our own self-examination. And despite this antiquated notion of "pure blood," that some of us still hang on to, ours is exactly the same.  
  
"No one knows that for sure," he answered quickly.  
  
"I do. My work has led me into many labs around the world, and I have tested my own blood against many muggle samples. I assure you, it is exactly the same."  
  
"You should publish that; there would be a great deal of interest."  
  
"Yes, and a big upset for all those old families, still clinging to the notion of their purity. I would make lots of enemies."  
  
"The concept of pure-blood, goes far beyond cells and genes, it is about honor and tradition and. . ."  
  
"Nonsense. Absolute nonsense. More than a few of the pure-bloods became death eaters. And some of them went on to commit the most horrendous crimes. . ."  
  
Even as the words left her mouth, she knew she had made a big mistake. She moved the remains of her dinner around on her plate as he glared at her, contemplating his response.  
  
What a pity. He had enjoyed talking to her. She was interesting, and certainly that was refreshing. But he couldn't let such a remark just slip by. Through gritted teeth he said slowly, "You know NOTHING about what led people down that path. NOTHING about the choices they made. All this talk of learning from muggles is misguided. You are nothing but a young woman, who has gotten her choice position through family connections. And what's more, you are falsely convinced of your own uniqueness. You imagine yourself to be experienced by all your world travels, when in fact, you are simply running from the past or trying to recover something you lost long ago."  
  
He remained, as ever, razor-sharp.  
  
"Well, evidently your perception hasn't flagged in captivity, Severus, even if so much else has," she said quietly, but without any hint of her usual softness. "You were once so magnificent! Lord Voldemort's powerful and feared commander, then Albus' invaluable agent. Now, reduced to teaching potions to children and trading insults with your colleagues. She leaned closer, and whispered, "You know Albus keeps you here for your own protection, and he keeps you away from my job, which you could easily do, because that grotesque scar on your arm is a conduit into Voldemort's world that puts us all in danger." She leaned even closer, and lowered her voice to a hiss, "I just came in from over there, Severus, and your name is on all their lips. You didn't respond to His last summons and He wants you dead. A terrible choice really: return to Him and be killed, or stay here and die a little more each day."  
  
Her words wounded him like blunt daggers.  
  
"Professor Traveller! Are you ready for our little tour?" Leland Miller chimed, interrupting their argument. Not wanting to be rude to Miller, Miranda quietly got up and followed him. As he escorted her out of the great hall, she turned back towards Snape, and spoke silently to him: "Fighting amongst ourselves only strengthens His hand. I'm so sorry, really I am."  
  
Snape was riveted by the sound of her voice in his mind. He had heard that voice before . . . many years ago. That was the voice. The one he had heard during his imprisonment in Voldemort's darkest dungeon.  
  
He winced as he remembered the terrible days and nights he spent there. His only crime had been wanting to save the woman he had loved from Voldemort. How he had languished in that pit, forgotten by his Master, until one day he heard that sweet voice whispering to him of the world above.  
  
Oh, that Traveller was a wretched woman for stealing that memory from him! How could she? HOW DARE SHE? Some things in this life were inviolable, and that pure, beautiful voice was his one thing. Wretched woman!  
  
He hardly realized that he was moving, but he walked quickly out the door after her. Down the hall he saw that fool Miller telling her about the haunted armor. He stopped in front of them, grabbed Miranda by the upper arms and jammed her roughly against the castle wall. She cried out as she hit the wall, but it was a small cry. He had caused much worse. His teeth were bared, and his eyes burrowed into her - as if to pull his memories back - dark and flashing even in the hallway's half light.  
  
She started to resist, but then fixed her eyes on him and just let the waves of his emotions wash over her.  
  
ANGER . . . she shouldn't have done it, even if she could. FEAR . . . of the ease of her apparent violation. DESIRE FOR CONTROL. . . she would not do this to him again. Then simply, DESIRE. He moved closer, leaning into her. That odor, her scent mixed with some flower he didn't recognize. Finally, his will wavered, and she had him. She looked into him, and parted her lips - barely beckoning. She inhaled slowly, and drew him nearer still.  
  
"Severus, really! I must protest this brutality!" Miller yelped.  
  
Snape released her, his hands shaking slightly, and backed a forearm's length away. She hit the floor, but she did not break her gaze. He placed the two long fingers of his left hand on the base of her neck, just above her collarbone, and said, "If you EVER speak to me like that again, I will consider it a declaration of WAR between us." He backed away slowly, and swept off towards Slytherin House.  
  
Miranda stood against the wall, with her eyes down.  
  
"He's a madman! Are you alright?" Miller asked, stunned at what he had just seen.  
  
"Yes I'll be fine."  
  
They walked in silence until Miller's curiosity got the better of him, "What did you say to him?"  
  
"Oh, nothing really. Our discussion at dinner turned nasty. We traded insults, and one of mine was about how poorly he had fared in captivity."  
  
"You said that? To him?" he laughed "Oh, dear girl, you're lucky he didn't kill you!"  
  
She knew that those words had not hurt Snape, but the sound of her silent voice did. She didn't expect him to react violently. She miscalculated and had narrowly escaped, but luck had nothing to do with it.  
  
Snape took the long way back to his room and stopped at the library. A touch of his wand and the lock on the door clicked open. A gentle push of his hand and the door gave way to him. The heels of his boots pounded the floor as the scent of oiled leather and old parchment filled his senses. He made his way over to reference, to the bookstand with the 322nd edition of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the UK on it. He touched the cover of the book and it flew open to the correct page:  
  
Traveller: Phillip, b 1913; auror; Ministry; m. Sophie (deWald; b 1918), auror; deceased, 1972. 1d. Miranda G., b 1972; telepath, auror; Bacc.(hon) Bb.  
  
He tapped the page. More entries appeared, back one, two, five generations in Britain and France. All deceased. So, she was almost thirty years old. Her parents were old, quite old when she was born, and her mother died soon after - unusual. Both aurors, then Ministry, it figures. Wait! Phillip Traveller, the auror turned Minister? Not him . . . not again.  
  
Snape breathed hard and he clutched the pedestal as he remembered Traveller raging at him during his interrogations. Traveller's pale skin had turned scarlet as he paced in front of Snape. He wanted more information, more details . . . more, always more. So many times he had been grateful for being tied to his chair, for he surely would have come to blows with that horrible man if he had been free. He recalled the suspicions, the derisions and the endless terrible insults Traveller had hurled at him in his potion- induced weakness. He laughed ruefully as he thought that that was how the Ministry treated men who had volunteered to help bring Voldemort's reign to an end.  
  
Snape's sad reverie ended abruptly when the library door creaked open and Argus Filtch, the school's caretaker thumped in followed by his cat Mrs. Norris. Filtch bared his teeth as he squinted into the shadows beyond the lantern. His eyes fell on Snape and he startled.  
  
"Oh! My apologies, Professor. I saw the door ajar and wanted to be sure there wasn't an intruder about."  
  
"Quite alright, Filtch," Snape replied softly. "I'll lock up when I'm done."  
  
"Yes, sir, Professor," Filtch said as he slipped quietly out of the room.  
  
Snape turned back to the book, hesitated, suspecting what he might find, but then tapped the book once more. The pages fluttered softly, like wings of a great moth until he found the correct entry:  
  
Snape: Salazar, b 1946; m. Madeline (Greenstone; b 1950); 1 d. Samantha b 1992.  
  
Madeline Greenstone, Gabrielle's older sister. It was supposed to be another one of his father's great mergers: The Greenstones and The Snapes, two old, pure-blood families. And now, a niece he had never seen. He tapped the page twice more, no other entries. His fingernails scratched lightly down the page as he reeled. His brother had erased him, their father and all of their ancestors from history. 


	2. Traveller's Rest

**A Traveller's Tale  
  
by Greta Jameson  
  
2. Traveller's Rest**  
  
Just past dawn, a blackbird began the morning chorus to which Snape woke. On most days, he would rise early, before most others and begin his tasks when the world was still fresh. But this morning, he lay on his back with his eyes closed, wrapped in a white linen sheet and listened as the sound of their varied voices swelled into a symphony. He tried to focus his attention on only one bird at a time, and found it quite difficult. Some voices were stronger and easier to follow than others, and others softer. The birds flew around, flitting from the trees to the castle walls and back, and their voices moved with them. Two and three voices occasionally seemed to combine and make a completely new sound. And there were so many birds! And Miranda could hear all of our thoughts in this same way, he thought. How strange that must be!  
  
His mind now cleared of the previous evening's passions, he reviewed the facts of the evening as his eyes idly swept over the white bed curtains that surrounded him. They had a conversation, which was by turn enjoyable and insulting; she spoke to him in her telepathic voice; he had regrettably overreacted, and they each went off to their rooms.  
  
What he learned from last night was far greater than the events themselves.  
  
It was clear that Miranda was a member of the Network. Had Albus given her leave to tell him that he was being hunted? Probably not. Her temper had gotten the better of her professionalism She should work on that. Why did he recall her? Too dangerous? Unlikely. Had she recently made mistakes? Possibly. Ten years in the field without a break was a very long time.  
  
He sat up in bed and his eyes fell on the dagger lying on the bedside table. Intricate filigree decorated the crimson leather scabbard and wound round thumbnail size rubies and emeralds on the hilt.  
  
He grabbed the handle and unsheathed the old weapon. Such superior craftsmanship! The foot-long blade was strong and straight with a tapered tip. It had a keel in the center of the blade and had grooved edges to channel the blood of its victims. He balanced the knife on his hand at the base of his forefinger. He smiled, and knocked the knife up in the air with a sharp thrust of his hand, caught it above his head - just as in the games that he and his brother Salazar used to play as boys.  
  
His smile faded as he thought about Salazar. As children, no two brothers could have been closer. But as their father rose in Voldemort's ranks, the brother's relationship grew more strained until Snape's own declaration of allegiance to the Dark Lord had caused his mother's suicide and had torn the family apart.  
  
Snape sat quietly with the dagger on his lap as he wondered whether he should finally answer Salazar's call to return home. He hadn't seen him in years.  
  
He saw his face reflected in the blade and sat up very tall, arching his lower back slightly, and tensing his legs as if on horseback. That was how he looked long ago! He could stop anyone in their path with a simple glance and arch of his brow. In his presence, the fools he commanded cowered, and strangers stopped to deliberate their actions. Miranda's words drifted into his mind: "You were once so magnificent. . ." Yes, he once was, wasn't he?  
  
Wait a moment! How did she know what he looked like back then? She was a child. He reviewed the faces in the Druben. Mostly men, and few married couples . . . but no children. No, that couldn't be the connection - what would an auror child be doing in Voldemort's court? Oh that woman - she was maddening! Each revelation brought a litany of further questions.  
  
He slammed his fist down on the bed, quickly dressed and penned a letter.

* * *

Miranda awoke when the rays of the nearly midday sun caressed her face. It had been years since she had slept so soundly for so long. She lay on her bedroll by the fire for a long time, lazily letting the thoughts of the other inhabitants of the castle lap at her consciousness.  
  
She made her way to the bath to find an empty room with a toilet and a white clawfoot tub. That would never do! She closed her eyes, focused her thoughts on the image of the grotto, and smiled as the sound of falling water rushing over stones greeted her. She slipped out of her filthy clothes and dove into the deep pool that now lay before her. Oh yes, it was this cold! No, a bit warmer, warmer still . . . good, she thought, adjusting the water temperature. Now it was both comfortable and refreshing.  
  
She swam around in the pool and conjured moss, some wildflowers, and other details that she remembered. Then she floated on the surface, supported only by the lightness of the air in her lungs.  
  
When she exhaled, she started to sink beneath the surface, until she filled her lungs again with the clear Himalayan air. She relaxed, extinguished all thoughts from her mind, and focused only on the tidal rise and fall of her breath.  
  
When she was through with her bath, Miranda spent the better part of the day carefully inspecting or depassing her room. Wizards and witches - especially the dark kind - can place miniscule cracks in the world that can be opened to form hidden tunnels from one place to the next. Just as easily, these passages can be closed, leaving only a tiny knot in space. If these channels are not removed, they can be reopened at any time, if one knows where they are or how to look for them.  
  
She held her long pyramidal prism up to the open window, slowly and systematically moved the rainbows of refracted light around the room - quadrant by quadrant - looking for Passes.  
  
None on the left. She repeated the process on the other side.  
  
Wait! What's that? She peered at the spot, but couldn't determine whether it was indeed a Pass or not. She got out a large, almost black lens and held it up to the window. A thin stream of bluish-purple light issued from the lens, but it didn't reach all the way to the far end of the room. She focused her thoughts to amplify the incoming light, and a dark violet streak shone across the room.  
  
She called silently for Albus, and in a few minutes he arrived at her door. Miranda showed him the knot in space, first with the refracting prism, then with the dark lens. She steadied the filter as Albus approached the spot and examined it. "Yes, it is curious, isn't it?"  
  
He tried half a dozen complex spells and the Pass did not yield. After a long pause he quietly said, "Alohomora," and the dark spot started to flux and became more diffuse as it grew larger until a brick tunnel appeared in the middle of Miranda's room.  
  
They stood in silence and tried to penetrate the darkness of the hallway with their eyes.  
  
"A child's spell," Miranda pointed out.  
  
"Yes, interesting choice. You stay with here. I'll see where this leads."  
  
After several minutes, he clambered down from the entrance a bit out of breath and said, "It is part of a maze of Passes running throughout the entire school. Offices, dormitories, classrooms, sleeping quarters, as far as I can tell from a cursory examination, it appears to touch every room in the castle except for my office." He looked gravely at her. "The disturbing thing is that the usual security team inspected the school at the beginning of the summer. I will send owls out immediately, calling for eradication experts. In the meantime, we will have to find secure quarters for you, my dear."  
  
"Thanks Albus," Miranda said quietly.  
  
"Is there something you'd like to tell me dear?"  
  
"No . . . I mean . . . Well yes, as a matter of fact, there is," she said glancing out the window to avoid Albus penetrating gaze.  
  
"It's about Snape isn't it? I felt your quarrel last night from across the room."  
  
"He's absolutely horrible, Albus! He deliberately baited me into an argument, and I . . ."  
  
"And you were more than happy to oblige, I'm sure!" he said, smiling. "You seem to have inherited your father's temper, as well as his outstanding transformation ability."  
  
"I just don't think it's going to work out, that's all. I can't imagine having to sit next to him at meals for the rest of the term."  
  
"Just give it another try," Albus said as he patted her shoulder. "I brought you two - my two best - together for a reason, remember? We need to gather all of our defenses for the coming battle if we are to prevail. Now, when Snape returns. Just try to patch things up . . ."  
  
"Returns? Has he gone somewhere? With the nature of the threats against him, he really shouldn't be . . ."  
  
"Without any explanation whatsoever, he requested my permission to go visit his brother."  
  
"And you let him? Just like that?" she worried loudly.  
  
"Yes, but I sent two aurors to follow him and told them to stay out of sight. He would never willingly accept their assistance for a personal errand. "And yes," he said with a smile, "they know that he is a gifted concealer."  
  
Miranda paced towards the door and turned quickly, asking, "He's seeing his brother - after all this time? Does he know about all of Salazar's charitable work? He could be walking right into a trap, you know."  
  
"Severus doesn't know a thing about his brother's shifting allegiances. I chose not to tell him. I thought it would do more harm than good. Anyway, he was the one who initiated the meeting. All he said was that it was long overdue."  
  
"Well, he's right about that, at least. Keep me posted, Albus. And if you need me, call me. I'll always help him, you know that."  
  
"You've done more than enough to . . ."  
  
"No Albus. You know as well as I, it's a debt I'll never fully repay." 


	3. The Persistence of Memory

**A Traveller's Tale  
  
by Greta Jameson  
  
3. The Persistence of Memory**  
  
Severus stepped from the portal into the darkness of the hanging garden behind the Snape family home. It had rained earlier in the day, and the old stones of the manor glistened in the gathering darkness. It was milder here than back at Hogwarts and the scent of late-blooming jasmine hung on the light breeze and warmed his senses.  
  
He sat concealed in the garden, considering his plan. Concealment was one of his natural gifts, and he loved the freedom it imparted. Without assistance, he could become translucent, and walk about almost unseen - especially after dark. With a little bit of hirudin from leeches to thin his blood and a few drops of the lanthanum-based potion he designed for himself - he could become invisible - even in bright light. He had taken that draught many times while on Albus' missions. It was, unfortunately, quite toxic, and he could only use it for short periods of time - no more than a few days every now and then.  
  
Barely a shadow, he pondered the outcome of his visit. He had come this far before, only to leave without reconciling with his brother. Best not to think too much. If he contemplated the wisdom of his actions any more, he would probably depart empty handed again.  
  
Leather soles ground against the wet flagstones as he approached the door. He paused to reveal, straighten his now-visible collar and knocked lightly. The heavy oak door swung slowly open. Severus clenched his jaw and fists in nervous anticipation. He looked down at his brother, his protector for so long, and smiled weakly. Salazar looked so much older and stronger than the last time he had seen him. His sandy hair had gone mostly grey and was cropped close against his head - now the fashion for wizards who followed that sort of thing.  
  
Salazar stared intently back at him through his round, sliver-framed lenses. It was impossible for him to look at his brother and not think of their mother, so great was the resemblance. They stared across a gap of almost twenty years. Nearly, two decades since they had seen each other. Their parting all those years ago had been bitter. Salazar had told him to defy their father and stay, but Severus had followed him into Voldemort's world more out of duty than desire. He had promised Salazar that he would return when he had the chance, but did so only now, after so much time and tragedy had ravaged their family.  
  
They stepped forward and wrapped their arms around each other, healing the rift that had grown so wide. Severus stroked the back of his brother's head with his large hand. He looked around the inside of the house and remarked, "It looks so much different than I remember. It's so much lighter than before."  
  
"Yes, it was so gloomy. We wanted a clean break with the past, and thought our home should reflect that as well. We even put in electricity," Salazar said as he fiddled with the wall dimmer like a toy.  
  
Severus smiled at his brother's antics until his eyes fell on Madeline and Samantha standing a few meters away - like ghosts out of the past. Samantha looked like Salazar, but had long almost-black hair. And Madeline resembled her sister Gabrielle so much that he startled to think his old love alive again as her silvery hair and pale skin shone in the dimly lit room.  
  
"Come, come say hello," Salazar urged.  
  
Madeline hugged him stiffly and said, "This is Samantha. Say hello to your uncle, Sam."  
  
"Hello uncle Severus," she said softly.  
  
He placed his hand awkwardly on her shoulder and replied, "I apologize for being away for so long, and hope that I can make amends for my absence."  
  
"We hope that Sam will be going to Hogwarts next year," said Madeline.  
  
"Wonderful! Are you sure she's up to the challenge?" he asked encouragingly  
  
"She's absolutely brilliant! You'll have a chance to see for yourself tomorrow," Salazar exclaimed as he led his brother towards his study.  
  
Severus settled into his father's old leather chair and watched the fire in front of him. The logs were still fresh and the flames licked the stones as they roared skywards.  
  
"Would you like a drink?" Salazar asked fumbling with the bottles.  
  
"No, I've got to keep my wits about me, thanks."  
  
"Relax, you're staying the night, remember?"  
  
"Right. In that case, yes. Whatever you're having is fine."  
  
"We tried to contact you, you know, right after the war," Salazar said as he sat in a chair nearby.  
  
"Yes, I know. I was in no condition to come home. I was an empty shell of a man."  
  
"Those years were awful for us too. No privacy at all. The Ministry was crawling through the house, examining every inch of it and looking for evidence against father. They even tried to implicate me as his heir! I was forced to cooperate - because I wanted to clear our name. It was so humiliating. No one to speak to except those interrogating bastards! We were practically prisoners in the house. After father's death they began to ease up, and eventually they left us alone.  
  
"We searched for you and sent out public inquiry. Albus Dumbledore replied and said that Voldemort was firmly in your past. I wrote back immediately and asked him to convey our best wishes."  
  
"I'm sorry, I just wasn't ready."  
  
"So, what has finally brought you home?"  
  
"I don't know. I've been thinking about coming back for a while now and . . ." Severus paused as thoughts of Miranda filled his mind.  
  
"And what?"  
  
"Oh . . . nothing really. I've a new colleague who has made me think about the past and made me realize that I should have returned years ago, that's all."  
  
Salazar smiled widely as he asked, "A new colleague? What's her name?"  
  
"No. No, it's nothing like that, really, it's not," Snape fumbled.  
  
"Come on, brother. You've never been a good liar, you know."  
  
"I said, 'no', and I meant it! She's Phillip Traveller's daughter, and believe me, the fruit doesn't fall far. She's just as vicious as he was. I couldn't imagine anything between us . . . ever!"  
  
"By Slytherin! I didn't know that Traveller had a daughter," Salazar said shivering as he remembered Traveller and his team of interrogators. Tell me about her."  
  
"Well her name is Miranda and her gifts are transformation and telepathy. She's also an experienced auror."  
  
"A telepath? Phillip Traveller's daughter? That's quite a powerful combination - those two - how unusual. And an auror to boot! What does she look like?"  
  
"She's tall, comes up to about here on me," Severus said placing his hand just below his eyes. "And she has dark hair."  
  
"Is she fair or dark?"  
  
"Fair-skinned, too pale, really."  
  
"And her eyes?"  
  
Severus thought for a moment and finally said, "I think they might be dark, but I can't remember."  
  
"She sounds lovely," Salazar said grinning.  
  
"To someone she must be, but not to me. No, really!" Severus laughed. "It's just that . . ."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I feel like we've met somewhere before, but I just can't remember where or when that might have been. No, it's more than that, I feel like I know her very well. And I have felt this way from the instant she arrived. It's remained just beyond my reach, even though I've tried and tried to recall. "  
  
A soft knock preceded Madeline's entrance into the room. "Sam is in bed, and I'm going up as well," she said as she kissed Salazar lightly on the cheek.  
  
"I'll be up soon, dear, don't you worry," Salazar said shooing her out of the room.  
  
As she left, she narrowed her round brown eyes and stopped to regard Severus like a large and dangerous but domesticated dog.  
  
Salazar stretched and yawned as he said, "I'm sorry we didn't have more of a welcome for you, but your letter took us a bit by surprise."  
  
"That's alright. It's just good to see you again. It's good to be home."  
  
"We'll do something tomorrow; maybe Maddie will make a nice supper, or something. Listen, before we go up, is there anything we can do for you - anything you want?"  
  
Severus hesitatingly began his long-rehearsed speech, "Well, now that you mention it . . . there is something. As you know, you were designated the keeper of father's worldly goods, and I of his otherworldly estate."  
  
"Yes, I am well aware of his will," Salazar said seriously, as he sat up in his chair.  
  
"Well, I would very much like his personal papers, books and writings, as I am the rightful heir to these things. But there are also other reasons I come to claim them."  
  
"Such as?" Salazar asked in a businesslike manner.  
  
"It is becoming far too dangerous for you to keep these things in the house. Voldemort has risen, and if he realizes what is stored here, you could become a target. They will be safer at Hogwarts, and you will be safer as well."  
  
"Please take them - I am glad to be rid of them!" Salazar said feigning fright. "We'll find them for you in the morning. Now let us off to bed."  
  
His brother led him up the stairs past his old room and into a luxurious guest room. Severus sank into the feather duvet, and smiled at the unexpected comfort of it, as he fingered through a box of keepsakes Madeline had left on the night table for him. Mostly family images for him to take back to Hogwarts with him. He undressed and crawled into bed, exhausted, but almost whole again.  
  
Salazar paused at the large leaded-glass windows in the center of the old house and looked up at the moon. Surrendering Sebastian's papers to his brother weighed on his mind. By law, Severus had every right to them - they were his. But those papers could strengthen his hand with Voldemort, should he be forced to choose his side. He did not relish joining them, but would, if it became expedient for him to do so. After further consideration, he walked back downstairs to issue special instructions to his elves.

* * *

After breakfast, Hobby, the lead house elf appeared and timidly announced, "Master, we have found the door. We is ready for you."  
  
"Very good, Hobby. We will be with you shortly," Salazar replied.  
  
"What's happening?" Samantha asked.  
  
"Nothing dear," Madeline answered quickly. "Uncle Severus is helping father with a project in the basement - getting some of granddad's things - that's all."  
  
"In the basement? It's so creepy down there."  
  
"Yes dear, we had better get a move on ourselves, or we'll be late."  
  
"But I want to stay and see what they're doing!"  
  
"That's not possible!" said Madeline, her temper beginning to flare. "Now, come along. We've got things to do in town. Give Uncle Severus a kiss goodbye. He'll be gone by the time we get back."  
  
"Goodbye Uncle Severus," she said giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I hope you come back soon and bring your friend Miranda with you next time."  
  
Salazar, I told you . . ." Severus said sharply to his brother.  
  
"Yes, yes. I know what you told me. But I also heard what you didn't say. Besides, Sam knows how to keep a secret. She won't tell anyone. Will you Sam?"  
  
"No dad. I promise."  
  
"Good girl!"  
  
Madeline took Sam's hand and ushered her through the door without bidding them goodbye.  
  
Severus sipped his strong black coffee and changing the subject said, "Madeline was very upset this morning."  
  
"Yes, she hides it well, doesn't she!" Salazar laughed. "She was furious that I still had some of Sebastian's belongings in the house. She couldn't believe that I hadn't surrendered his papers to the Ministry, and wants them all gone before she and Sam get back."  
  
"I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble."  
  
"Not to worry. She'll get over it soon enough. Your next visit will be more pleasant. Come on, we'd better get a move on. No telling how long this will take."  
  
Torches lit their way as they descended the wide stone steps into the basement. In former days, these rooms were used to store perishables and dry goods. Now, the elves frequented them only to walk between the manor and the estate outbuildings.  
  
The voices of the elves echoed loudly against the stones. They were distressed and fearful of their assignment, but their natural joviality shone through when they found themselves free from immediate danger. Their conversations abruptly halted when Salazar walked into the room. Severus followed and surveyed the large piles of dirt that the elves had moved revealing a door in the floor.  
  
"Excellent job! Now let's have it open," Salazar politely ordered.  
  
The elves stood around the door in a semicircle. After several moments of silence, the door smoothly swung open and rested securely on the floor, and one of the elves fetched a wooden ladder. Severus stepped towards the pit but hesitated at the edge and said, "Take care, all of you, there's no telling what spells Sebastian cast to protect his possessions." Then he descended into the hole, followed by Salazar and the company of elves who carried lanterns, rope, and other tools.  
  
The room was empty save for two large wooden trunks, held closed by iron padlocks. Severus touched the lock on the first trunk with his wand and it easily gave way. The hinges, so long idle, creaked loudly as he opened the trunk. His father's black jacket lay across the contents, its golden buttons embossed with a design of snakes devouring their own tails gleamed in the lamplight.  
  
He lightly ran his hand across the garment, remembering his father as his fingertips grazed the boiled wool. Sebastian had been kind to his sons as long as they obeyed him, and Severus had fond childhood memories of him. As he grew older however, he began at first to question and then to resist his father's decisions. He drew his hand suddenly away from the garment and frowned. He recalled one summer when he was about fifteen years old, he had refused to accompany his father to Voldemort's court. He remembered the look in his father's blue eyes as he calmly considered his latest defiance. Instead of raising his hand to him, Sebastian had offered him his magnificent set of daggers in return for Severus' company. Unaccustomed to such generosity from his father, Severus accepted and went with him. Building on that success, his father showered his acquisition of dark knowledge with compliments and gifts, and the relationship between father and son warmed. The more repugnant the task, the greater the recompense, and Severus quickly became an accomplished dark wizard.  
  
"Severus, what's in there?" asked Salazar impatiently.  
  
"Oh," he answered, waking from his dream to fumble through the contents of the trunk. "Sebastian's old clothes: jackets, vests, pants, and even some shoes. No papers though."  
  
"Must be in the other, then - let's have a look," Salazar said as he touched the padlock on the second trunk with his wand and the lock fell clattering onto the dirt floor. The trunk was filled to the brim with books and unbound parchment. Salazar motioned for Hobby to bring the lanterns closer and picked up one of the volumes and began to page through it.  
  
"Our great father's final insult to his sons," Salazar said sarcastically as he threw the volume back into the trunk. "His memoirs are nothing but gibberish!"  
  
Severus knelt down and examined a stack of parchment. Seemingly random series of numbers and letters covered the pages in Sebastian's wispy, formal script. "I don't think so, brother. These are merely encoded. They will have to be deciphered before we can extract the information. Not necessarily an easy task, but not an impossible one."  
  
"Yes, of course. You used to like to break codes when we were young, didn't you?"  
  
"No, I hated it. It was another thing he forced me to learn."  
  
"Hobby, please prepare these trunks and bring them upstairs. My brother and I will wait for you there. Come on Severus," Salazar said shivering, "let's get out of here."  
  
When at last he heard the door to the main house slam shut, Hobby dismissed the rest of the elves and hurriedly copied each of Sebastian's documents before bundling the originals for transport to Hogwarts.

* * *

"Would you please stop complaining! We wouldn't even be here if it hadn't been for you neglecting to buy all of your textbooks on our first trip," Lucius Malfoy growled quietly to his son as they entered Flourish & Blotts bookstore.  
  
"I only overlooked two of them because I was upset by all of the Ministry's doings!" Draco replied angrily. "Bloody raids!"  
  
Lucius stared disappointedly at his son and clicked his tongue as he coldly said, "If you continue to make excuses for your mistakes and expect others to make up for your shortcomings, you'll never amount to anything. Now, which ones did you forget?" He grabbed the paper that his son proffered in his gloved hand and scanned the store to see if there was anyone worth talking to. No one special on the left, and to his right - Oh!  
  
He listed and leaned on his serpent-headed cane for support as he traversed the memories of nearly half a lifetime ago. She had once been his reason for the stars shining in the sky and neither time nor childbearing had ruined her incredible beauty. He watched her move easily through the stacks in her black trousers of finely woven wool and a short black tunic with polished wood buttons. Her daughter seemed so different, with dark hair and dark eyes in a green and blue plaid jumper.  
  
The remarkable thing, he thought, was that they both could easily have passed for muggle had it not been for the light of wizardry in their eyes. They must be blending, terrible practice but fashionable these days, like so much else that repulsed him.  
  
"Father, what is it? Are you alright?"  
  
"I'm fine son," Lucius said as he put his arm around Draco. "It's just someone I haven't seen in a long, long while. Take a look at that woman over there and her child, and tell me who you think they might be."  
  
Draco thought that the woman looked a lot like his mother, but even he noticed this woman's superior grace. Then he assessed the girl and his eyes grew wide with surprise, as he blurted out, "Professor Snape. But, he doesn't have a family does he?"  
  
Lucius smiled, pleased with his son's observation, "No, you're absolutely right, he doesn't, but his brother does. Come, let's say hello."  
  
Lucius could have walked directly over to her, but instead he circled around to draw her into conversation at the deserted edge of the shop. "Hello, Madeline," he purred.  
  
She turned towards him with the pleasant smile she usually wore in public but let that mask fall as their eyes met and held each other in silence. "Oh, Lucius . . .how good to see you," and gave him a polite peck on the cheek.  
  
He closed his eyes to feel her kiss more acutely, and when he opened them again, she felt them bore through her like a blazing core through her deep snow.  
  
"This is Samantha," she said maneuvering her daughter between them. "And this must be Draco. Isn't he turning into a handsome young man?"  
  
"And Samantha should be headed to Hogwarts next year if I'm not mistaken."  
  
"Yes, we hope so."  
  
Lucius' lips tensed and he stared coldly at Madeline for saying, "we".  
  
"Mother, can I go explore the rest of the store?" Samantha asked.  
  
"Excellent idea," said Lucius removing his gloves. "And Draco can chaperone to see that she stays out of trouble, can't you son?"  
  
Draco started to object, but saw from the hardness in his father's eyes that he would not be allowed to, so he said, "Sure," and led Samantha off.  
  
When he was sure the children were out of earshot, Lucius caressed Madeline's cheek tenderly with his bare fingertips. "Not a day has passed that I haven't . . ." he murmured earnestly.  
  
"Lucius, please, don't."  
  
". . . That I haven't thought of you, and wanted to touch and to hold you."  
  
She looked away, tears welling in her eyes.  
  
"Please, don't turn away," he said as he ran his open palm down her neck and back drawing a shiver from her.  
  
She surveyed the face of the man she had chosen as her own so long ago. He was still as handsome as ever, with his flowing blonde hair and piercing spring-sky eyes. But he was stronger and surer of himself than he had been in his youth, and she felt drawn to him even more than before.  
  
"Madeline, you remain the love of my life," he said as he gathered her up and kissed her. Her small sighs let him know that he was still welcome - at least this little bit. "Let me love you again, please," he whispered in between kisses.  
  
"I can't," she said placing her hands on his chest and pushing him back lightly. "Salazar is a good husband, and he has been very kind to me. I will not betray him."  
  
He stepped away from her and said, "I think you misunderstand me. What I propose will not shake our lives, or this precious social order one little bit. I suggest only an occasional tryst to revisit our youthful passions that were so cruelly interrupted," he whispered as he leaned forward kissing her forehead.  
  
She just stared back at him and did not respond.  
  
His face remained impassive, but he smiled inwardly at her conflict. He hadn't expected her to entertain such a suggestion for even a moment - yet she was considering it.  
  
"Mother! Mum, where are you?" Sam called  
  
"Over here dear," Madeline said as Sam ran round the corner.  
  
"And where is that son of mine? He should be with you."  
  
"I'm right here," Draco said sharply stepping from behind the adjacent bookshelf and staring reproachfully at his father.

* * *

Try as he might, Draco Malfoy couldn't get to sleep that night. He tossed and turned as the moon shone brightly, cutting swaths of light across his bedspread. After conceding defeat to his conscience, he put on his robe and headed towards the kitchen to get a late snack.  
  
At the base of the steps he could smell and hear the fire in the main hall, and went there instead. Lucius sat alone in his chair, staring at the flames raging in the enormous fireplace. He gulped down half a glassful of amber liquor and poured some more from the crystal decanter on the side table. Before placing the bottle back, he turned it round in front of his face, and smiled at the rainbows of light it cast around the room.  
  
Draco wondered whether he should he go and speak to him. His father would probably be furious with him if he knew that he had seen most of his meeting with Mrs. Snape, and he anticipated a shower of insults. Still, he felt he ought to, and so stepped out of the shadows in the doorway.  
  
"Father, can I speak with you?"  
  
Startled from his thoughts, Lucius looked in the direction of his voice without seeing him at first. When he finally focused on him, he said, "Draco? What are you doing out of bed?"  
  
"I'd like to speak with you, if you don't mind."  
  
"Certainly, come and have a seat. What can I do for you, son?"  
  
His father's eyes - usually clear and sharp - were watery and red. Draco glanced at the decanter and figured that it had been nearly filled at the beginning of the evening. He was unaccustomed to seeing his father drunk, and knew enough to tread carefully. At the best of times, Lucius had a volatile temper, and Draco assumed that a great deal of alcohol could only make it worse.  
  
"I . . . I . . ." he started, but paused and looked into the fire.  
  
"Spit it out, boy"  
  
"I saw you and Mrs. Snape at the shop today. I saw everything," he said as he turned challengingly towards his father.  
  
"I thought that you might have."  
  
"How could you? You know that you shouldn't have! What about Mum?"  
  
Lucius laughed quietly and asked, "Would you like a drink? Single malt . . . one of my best."  
  
His father had never offered before, and Draco hesitated a moment before he accepted.  
  
He poured his son a large glass of scotch and handed it shakily to him. "Where to begin?" He began quietly, but his voice rose until it rang loudly round the room, "The lady now known as Madeline Snape would have been your mother had not a cruel, power-mad world prevented it!"  
  
Then, he shielded his face from his son as tears streamed down his face.  
  
Draco watched his father cry, and took a big sip of whiskey to dampen his shock.  
  
"Oh, how I loved her," Lucius murmured. "She was everything to me" he said as he glanced sideways at his son. "And I was not much older than you are when we met." He thought for a moment, and then smiled, remembering. "When we finished school we became lovers in plain sight of both families, and they seemed to be pleased with the prospect of our future together." He smiled and let his head fall back, basking in his memories.  
  
Then he sat up, and focused again on the fire. "And then one day Sebastian Snape - father of your beloved Professor - ruined our chances for happiness by asking for Madeline's hand in marriage for his son, Salazar. The Greenstones immediately assented, without even so much as consulting Madeline or me.  
  
"But you said they liked you. Why would they have done that?"  
  
"Because Snape was Voldemort's counselor, and heir-apparent to his dark kingdom. They dared not refuse," Lucius said furiously. "Sebastian was a great man: a powerful wizard, a renowned scholar, and patriarch of the most prominent pure-blood family of the day. There was little that other wizarding families would deny him, and he knew it - so he took the best of everything for himself."  
  
Lucius poured another drink and continued, "I offered to take her away and start life somewhere else, far away from everyone, and she refused - too bound by familial loyalty and fear of Snape's retribution to run away with me. And sadly, I have been repeating that same offer to her, every few years since then. She refuses . . . I go on a bender for a day or two," he said raising his glass. "And we get on with our lives. We attempt to assuage our lost love with phrases like 'sometimes things just don't work out'. But trust me, nothing ever stops the pain. Lucius stared into the fire and whispered, "The only thing that does help is revenge."  
  
Draco watched his fist clench and open over and over and was frightened by what he must have been thinking.  
  
"Father, there's something I have to tell you," he began.  
  
"Yes, what is it," Lucius snapped back, disturbed at the interruption.  
  
"It's why I came back to find you today. I wanted to tell you what Samantha said. She told me that Professor Snape came for a visit just the night before."  
  
"Did he? Moving around a little more than expected . . . perhaps he doesn't know."  
  
"She also told me that he's seeing someone and . . ."  
  
Lucius laughed, "You mean he's finally put out the torch he's been carrying for Maddie's sister all these years? Who is she?"  
  
"She said her name was Miranda. Now I don't know for sure if it's the same lady, but it said in my letter that our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher is named Miranda Traveller - she's a telepath."  
  
"But she's only just arrived," Lucius said, placing his glass on the tray and sitting forward. His eyes scanned the room excitedly. "That's too soon to be involved! Now, remember the bit about telepathy, but she has other gifts too, correct?"  
  
"Yeah, transformation. And she was an auror."  
  
"He shouldn't be associating with an auror and he knows that! At least not without reporting it to us. This is the first I've heard of it."  
  
He rose from his chair - suddenly sober - and paced in front of the fire, "Damn!" he yelled. "This is what happens when one neglects ones' duties. I assumed that she would not last the term, so I neglected to interview her. I'll have to pay them both a visit and see what's going on. I've got to report this. The Master must know. Good work son."  
  
"Father, there's more. Samantha said that Professor Snape came home to get, 'some of granddad's things'." 


	4. Ashes Burning

**A Traveller's Tale  
  
by Greta Jameson  
  
4. Ashes Burning**  
  
The first day of September finally arrived. Poor Harry had been prisoner at the Dursleys all summer. When he had written to object, Dumbledore had told him it was for his own protection. He had packed and been ready to leave for days. So when Mr. Williams and Mr. Swanson, officials from the Ministry of Magic, came to escort him to Kings Cross, he bid quick goodbye to his Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and Cousin Dudley, and jumped into the waiting car. The last thing he heard his uncle say was, "You are staying at school for Christmas, aren't you?"  
  
"Glad to be going, Harry?" inquired Mr. Williams.  
  
"You bet," was Harry's half-hearted reply. In truth, he was happy to be free of the Dursleys, but was full of foreboding about the coming school year. Over the summer, he had been tortured by many bad dreams and sleepless nights. He knew that he had escaped Voldemort, but that the Dark Lord would keep trying to kill him until he succeeded or was again disembodied.  
  
As the car sped towards the city, Harry grimly watched the people they passed - children playing, people washing cars - and knew that none of them lived so close to death's shadow as he did.  
  
His mood finally improved when they reached the station, and he heard Hermione yelling, "Harry! Harry! Wait for me!" She came running up and gave him a hearty hug.  
  
As do most boys his age, Harry grew a few inches that summer, and filled out in the shoulders a bit, so he wasn't so small anymore. Hermione too was taller and . . . what was it? Prettier? Happier? Maybe a little of both. She wore her hair tied back with a clip of cherrywood and mother of pearl. Harry found himself looking at her, and had to force himself to stop.  
  
She gave her parents a goodbye hug and ran through the portal followed by Harry and his escorts. Much to their discomfort, Mr. Williams and Mr. Swanson also boarded the train with them and said, "We'll be with you all the way to Hogwarts. If you need anything, just let us know," as they disappeared into the compartment next to their own. Ron and Ginny Weasley finally arrived, and when Hermione saw them, she flung open the window of the train and yelled: "Ron, over here!" After a bit of hustle and bustle, they all sat together on the train.  
  
Ron also noticed that Hermione seemed a combination of more confident and better looking. "So, how's Vik-tor?" he asked mimicking his eastern accent.  
  
"Fine. My parents and I went to visit for a few days before their dental surgery conference in Vienna."  
  
"He played even better than usual this summer; did you see him in the finals?"  
  
"No. We're just friends, now," she said fingering a copy of The Prophet on her lap. So, Ron, did you go anywhere?"  
  
"Nope, I did an internship at the Ministry. My father wanted to show me how rewarding a career in government could be, and all he succeeded in doing was making me NEVER want to work there. Mostly I just copied documents and made tea for people. But, I suppose I did learn one neat thing,"  
  
"What's that?" Harry and Hermione asked in unison.  
  
"How to solve puzzles."  
  
"What sort of puzzles?" Hermione asked with interest.  
  
"Word puzzles, codes and ciphers and stuff like that.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah. And at least according one of my dad's friends, I'm pretty good at it too."  
  
"So, how do you do it?"  
  
"Well, let's say you want to send a message to each other that only you two could read, you'd use a code, right? The safest method to use is something called a one-time pad - which is exactly what it sounds like, a code used for one message only. But those are really hard to break, so let's use an easy example. You still with me?"  
  
"Yeah," she said brightly.  
  
He took out a piece of parchment from his pocket that had been folded so many times in so many different ways that it looked ready to fall apart. On the paper was a table of letters arranged in rows and columns.  
  
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A   
  
A A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z   
  
B B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A   
  
C C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B   
  
D D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C   
  
E E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D   
  
F F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E   
  
G G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F   
  
H H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G   
  
I I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H   
  
J J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I   
  
K K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J   
  
L L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K   
  
M M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L   
  
N N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M   
  
O O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N   
  
P P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O   
  
Q Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P   
  
R R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q   
  
S S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R   
  
T T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S   
  
U U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T   
  
V V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U   
  
W W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V   
  
X X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W   
  
Y Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X   
  
Z Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y   
  
"Ugh! It looks like the alphabet repeated over and over."  
  
"Almost. Actually, it's shifted one letter over in each consecutive row and column," he said covering up only two adjacent rows. "Think of a message to send and I'll show you how it works," he said handing her a pen.  
  
She smiled at his use of the muggle tool, and wrote:  
  
HI HARRY, GOOD TO SEE YOU  
  
"Great, now one method would be for you two to agree to always shift letters a certain amount forwards or backwards. So, if you agreed to always shift "A" for "H", then the message would encipher like this," he said as his quickly wrote:  
  
OP OHYYF NVVK AV ZLL FVB  
  
"You see "H" plus 8 equals "O"; "I" plus 8 equals "P"; "H"8 again = "O"; "A"8 = "H", and so on. Another simple key choice that varies a bit, and would be slightly more difficult to break would use a keyword that kept repeating or the first letter of the day of the week that the message was written. So on Monday, the key letter would be "M" and on Tuesday, the key letter would be "T"."  
  
"That was fun"  
  
"Yeah, 'cause we had the square and the key." It's a bit more challenging if you just have the enciphered message."  
  
"Then what do you do?"  
  
"That's where the fun really begins," he said with a gleam in his eye. Go ahead, encipher a short message to Harry, and I'll break it for you."  
  
She took a few minutes to write the code, and handed him a piece of paper:  
  
OAKZAFY QGM S YJWSL QWSJ  
  
He looked at the message and took the key square on his lap and quickly scribbled:  
  
WISHING YOU A GREAT YEAR  
  
"How did you do that?"  
  
He smiled widely, "Lucky first guess actually. Today's Sunday, so I figured you would do the last thing I said. Now, if my lucky guess didn't give me anything but gibberish, first thing I'd do is a frequency count - to see which letters appear the most number of times and in which positions in the words. Let's see, two "Qs" starting words, two "Ws" and two "Js" in the middle or ends of words, and here . . .here's the repeated couplet "WS" in the last words and a lone "S" just prior. In a simple system like this, that lone "S" has got to be a vowel, an "I" or an "A", because in English we never use any consonants or any other vowels alone like that. In fact the most frequently used letters are, in descending order, "E, T, N, O, R, I, A, S". Your message is actually a good example, 'cause there's little repetition."  
  
She smiled proudly over her choice of words.  
  
"Anyway, now you start guessing and substituting letters. I would guess that "W" was an encoded "E", and then I would guess that "S" was either an "A" or an "I", because those make the most common couplets with "E". So, at this point, the only thing that may be correct is the "EA". The next step would be to examine the two "Qs", and ask yourself which words you can make with "EA" as the second and third letters."  
  
She started going through the alphabet, and reciting them, "BEAR, BEAN, BEAT, DEAR, FEAR, FEAT, GEAR, HEAR." And finally said, "Oh, there's lots".  
  
"Yeah, well without any further information, you would have to consider them all."  
  
This was beginning to sound less and less like fun to Hermione, and she glanced over to Harry who was staring out the window watching the countryside speed by.  
  
"I'm loosing you, aren't I? Well, anyway, you get the idea. That was actually a really easy example. Sometimes they can get really tough, substituting pairs or triplets of mixed numbers and letters for single or double letters. One of the muggle Ministries uses supercomputers to break codes - that's where my Dad's friend works. Both wizards and muggles have been doing this for centuries. That's what I love to read about, is the history of codemaking and breaking. Back in ancient Greece, in Sparta I think it was, they used to write codes on strips of leather called skytales. And these leather strips would be wound around sticks. . .  
  
Hermione had never before been happy to see Crabbe and Goyle, but their arrival made Ron finally stop talking. Harry noticed the absence of Ron's voice and turned to stare. They didn't say a word. They didn't goad Harry, tease Ron, or insult Hermione, he just stared vicious, hateful stares. After too many seconds of silence, Mr. Swanson, the taller of the two Ministry escorts appeared and said, "Ah, Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle, how good to see you. Ready for the new school year men?"  
  
Crabbe offered a brief, "Yes, thanks," and moved along down the train.  
  
"What was that all about?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Haven't you heard?" Ron asked raising his eyebrows. "The Ministry came down hard on the Malfoys for a change; they raided the manor twice over the summer and took lots of very valuable Dark Arts stuff. And it's all because Harry witnessed the assembly of Deatheaters, and named names."  
  
"But I thought that Mr. Fudge didn't believe him?"  
  
"He didn't, but others apparently did. My Dad said the Ministry is in chaos, and in the raids, the hands and arms moved without the knowledge of the head if you know what I mean."  
  
Harry shared a worried glance with Hermione and hunkered down for the rest of the trip. 


	5. Of Plots and Honey Pots

**A Traveller's Tale  
  
by Greta Jameson  
  
5: Of Plots and Honey Pots**  
  
The sun blazed on in the early September sky as if it were trying to burn a hole in the roof of Hogwarts castle. Summer was having a final fling before the long, damp Highland winter set in. In the distance, the bustle of upperclassmen arriving and moving in could be heard, but close-at-hand, a tense silence filled Dumbledore's office. He sat at his desk like an eagle in his aerie above the din and ran his spindly fingers down the cover of a large leather-bound book. He unlocked the clasp and carefully turned the pages of the old manuscript. He carefully considered each page and even though he was unable to read the words, he understood the importance of Snape's gift.  
  
"So you think that these volumes represent a library of Voldemort's magical knowledge?"  
  
"Yes, Headmaster. I am certain that at least some of the volumes are just that. My father undertook such a project when he became counsellor, and one night preceding the fall of Druben I helped him move these volumes to my family's home. To the best of my knowledge they have remained untouched to this day."  
  
Dumbledore stared at Snape over the rims of his glasses and began, "I am personally grateful for your gift of these volumes, Severus. But you know that they will probably cause a great deal of controversy if they are revealed to our colleagues at the Ministry.  
  
"Yes sir, and that's why I urge you to allow only a few people to know of them. . ."  
  
"Even the few will wonder why you waited until now to surrender them. It may create problems for you, you know."  
  
"I retrieved these books because Voldemort has risen," Snape began, barely able to control his anger. "These pages may contain information that will assist us in defeating Voldemort once and for all!" Then he continued more calmly, "Besides, I am used to the cloud of suspicion that the Ministry casts over my every action. I've come to expect that none of my good deeds will go unpunished by them."  
  
"Then I will inform the Ministry and ask for the cryptologic assistance that will be needed to break these codes. The sooner we get started on the project the . . ."  
  
The sharp rapping of metal on wood stopped Albus cold. He turned quickly to the trunks of manuscripts behind him, waved his wand and they vanished from his office. "In your office," he whispered to Severus before calling in full voice to his visitor, "Enter!"  
  
"Ah Lucius! To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"  
  
"Just escorting my son to school," he said walking towards the desk and placing his hand on Snape's shoulder. "So I thought I'd stop in to see how things were going. To see if you have any issues you would like me to address with the other Governors."  
  
"No concerns. We're off to a perfectly normal term, all except for one thing."  
  
"And what may that be?" Lucius inquired, feigning concern  
  
"Nothing really. It's just that Madame Hooch's parents have taken ill, and she has taken temporary leave of absence to assist in their care. Leland Miller has generously offered to take over her duties supervising quidditch practice and refereeing games, and other faculty have stepped in to teach flying."  
  
"Sounds like you have it under control."  
  
"Quite."  
  
"Speaking of Miller. How is he doing? And how is the new Defense instructor - what is her name?"  
  
"Traveller. Miranda Traveller."  
  
"Right. You know, I remember interviewing Miller, but I didn't get a chance to speak with Traveller personally. Might I speak with her today?"  
  
"Certainly. Severus will be happy to help you find her, unless, of course, you prefer I come along?"  
  
"That won't be necessary, I'm sure Professor Snape is up to the job. Besides, he and I have a few issues of our own to discuss, don't we Professor?" Lucius smiled menacingly.  
  
"If you mean to discuss your son's poor progress in my class, Mr. Malfoy," Snape began loudly as he ushered Lucius out of the office, "then yes, you and I have a great deal to discuss."  
  
"You might try Miranda's classroom," Dumbledore called after them. "She told me she would be working in there most of the day," As they disappeared down the hallway, Albus focused his mind and silently warned Miranda of their approach.

* * *

"Lucius Malfoy: Voldemort teamed him with Severus Snape. Snape's brains coupled with Malfoy's cunning made them a ferocious pair," her father's voice echoed in her mind as she walked from her classroom and towards Albus's summons. Phillip had also taught her that he could be dangerous and vicious, so she would be on her guard during the interview.  
  
She rounded the corner, and had to stop to catch her breath. He was magnificent! Tall, broad shouldered and strong. A powerful wizard at the peak of his abilities. He had blonde, almost white flowing hair pulled back away from his face and intelligent, ice blue eyes. If her mother had lived long enough, she would have warned Miranda about his looks and his ability to charm.  
  
'There she is now," Snape began. "Professor Traveller, this is Lucius Malfoy, one of our Governors. Mr. Malfoy would like to have a few words with you."  
  
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Malfoy," Miranda said bowing her head respectfully.  
  
"Likewise," he said kissing her hand without taking his eyes off of her.  
  
"Severus, you have been remiss," admonished Malfoy, still holding Miranda's hand. "You told me she was brilliant, but you neglected to mention she was so beautiful!"  
  
"I never said any such thing," Snape replied disdainfully.  
  
"No, you wouldn't say something like that, would you?" Lucius replied dreamily as he smiled at Miranda. "Someone else must have told me then." Unexpectedly, at least to Snape, Miranda blushed as she withdrew her hand.  
  
"Professor Traveller, I was very busy at the time of your appointment and neglected to interview you. Do you have time to speak with me now?"  
  
"Yes sir, certainly."  
  
"Excellent. Why don't we go for a walk out of doors? It was a lovely, warm day when I arrived an hour or two ago. And if we're lucky, it hasn't rained yet," he said as he guided her away from Snape, and towards the cloister doors. "Severus, you and I will have to finish our business later, I'll find you after my meeting with Profess . . . Miranda is through."  
  
Snape watched them as they walked through the garden bursting with chrysanthemums and remembered a scene from long ago. A young Lucius Malfoy kicked the lifeless body of a female auror in the stomach and called loudly to his men and was met with their raucous laughter, "We should thank the Ministry for sending us this whore! We didn't even have to pay her!" Snape leaned hard against the wall as he tried to silently project, "Miranda . . . Please beware."  
  
Lucius glanced up at the sky as the clouds rolled in and asked, "So how do you like Hogwarts so far, Professor?"  
  
"Very well, thank you."  
  
"And when did you arrive?"  
  
"As soon as I could - a few days ago."  
  
"And prior to that, you were working as an auror, correct?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Planning on returning to that after some teaching experience, or would you like to stay at Hogwarts?"  
  
"I'm not sure if I'd like to stay," she said shivering from the unexpectedly cool breeze, but I'm fairly certain that I won't return to work as an auror."  
  
"Why's that," he asked still holding her arm.  
  
"Because I want to find a husband and have a child. Still work, but doing something less dangerous. I just don't want to spend the rest of my life risking my life."  
  
Lucius smiled, pleased with her answer, "Please forgive my lack of manners. You are cold. Warm yourself with my cloak." He placed the cloak around her and felt her tremble slightly, as he brushed the edge of her shoulders with his hands.  
  
Lucius smiled to himself to see that she was unused to the attention of men. "Tell me about your family," he asked.  
  
"Well, my mother died when I was young, and my father manages the Ministry's Office of Transformations."  
  
"Of course! Your father is Phillip Traveller. I know him," Lucius smiled. "Powerful wizard with an important job. No wonder you are so strong. I was quite impressed when Dumbledore told me about you - transformation and telepathy - remarkable combination."  
  
Miranda just smiled and looked away.  
  
"Oh, and modest too?" he said touching her chin to turn her face back towards him.  
  
She trembled again, and became angry with herself. She was used to fending off all manner of attack. Yet she could not control her reaction to his touch.  
  
His eyes swept down the length of her azure dress and back up again as he thought, "Oh, sweet lady! What I wouldn't like to do to you."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, please!" she said taking a step back.  
  
"Oh, how rude of me!" he said feigning embarrassment. He was, in truth, pleased that she had heard him. For she now knew that he was in pursuit.  
  
"Well, you've demonstrated telepathy in regards to current thoughts," he said clearing his throat. "My humble apologies. Is that the extent of your ability?"  
  
"No, I can receive images from the past, present, memories, intentions, and I can project as well."  
  
"Alright, show me something."  
  
"Your son Draco."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"A pretty blonde lady - I don't know who she is."  
  
"My wife," he said, but she sensed it was a lie.  
  
As she performed these parlor tricks for him, the light mist began and turned steadily to rain, causing them to head back to the castle.  
  
As they walked, she continued to probe his memories. First she encountered family scenes: Draco as a young child and his wife on some sort of outing. Wait, that's not the same woman - similar, but not the same. Who then, was the other, and why did he lie? A bit deeper: The blonde woman as a young girl Deeper still, fragmented, bloody scenes. Killing in Voldemort's name. How could this man, who seemed so civilized, have done such things?  
  
"You know, I'm getting a bit hungry. Why don't we order up a little supper in a quiet place? Somewhere we can continue our conversation."  
  
More than anything, Miranda wanted her meeting with Malfoy to end, but his interest gave her an opportunity to get to know him better. If she knew him better, she could identify his strengths and his vulnerabilities - the latter of which could be used against him if deemed necessary by Albus. So with only a slight hesitation, she answered, "My classroom - we can go there."  
  
As they walked, she sent special instructions to the house elves on how to prepare the room.  
  
"So how are you getting on with the other faculty?"  
  
"Oh, Albus and Minerva have made me feel right at home."  
  
"I see. And you spend most of your time with them?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I see," Lucius said as he opened the classroom door for Miranda and followed her inside the dark room. She snapped her fingers the room sprang to life.  
  
The desks were gone, and in their place was a roughly hewn wooden table laden with food. In the mixed light of torches and candles, the olive trees cast lacy shadows as they towered over the table. There was a warm breeze and the sound of birds ushering in the summer evening, as there had been when he had met Madeline in Pontevès years ago.  
  
Miranda had captured every detail of his memory correctly!  
  
"Miranda dear, this is a remarkable display of your skills. You have really outdone yourself! There's only one thing missing."  
  
"What's that?" she asked defensively  
  
"Wine of course."  
  
"But you didn't . . . and I don't . . ."  
  
"Oh, never mind what happened then. There is a local vintage that you really must sample," He said conjuring a couple of bottles.  
  
"Lucius, I really don't think it's a good idea. Most telepaths don't handle drugs well - they cause us to do unpredictable things."  
  
He smiled inwardly at that thought and said, "One little sip, won't hurt now, will it?" he asked as he poured out two glasses. "Here's to the lovely and talented Miranda and her first year at our fine school."  
  
She hesitantly tasted the wine - it was delicious, and it began immediately to warm and relax her.  
  
"You know, I'm curious about telepathy," he said smiling. "Tell me more about it. I know the schoolbook definition, but what is it to you, dear?"  
  
"To me . . . telepathy is contact between minds in a community. And thus, it is intimately bound to concepts of self and world. It's about breaking down other's barriers - that's the easy part. But also about identifying and smashing those barriers we put in place for ourselves."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"Oh, the usual culprits: Sex, age, social class, position, education, intelligence, species. Anything that separates us into distinct groups also limits us." The combination of the wine and his attention seemed to make her lightheaded and she spoke faster than usual.  
  
"Other limitations include our conceptual barriers. Take for example wands. Most wizards and witches would be nearly powerless without them. But what are they really? Just a piece of wood with a supposed magical object inside: a bit of unicorn hair or the feather of a phoenix. Those substances and that wood have no more magic in them than . . . this knife and fork. We are the ones who have given them efficacy - with our minds.  
  
"Hmm . . . Some dark wizards in the past had abandoned wands, but I had always assumed that it was something inherent in that philosophy that allowed them to," he added, thinking that he liked her even more when she addressed the esoteric.  
  
"And you were taught that you needed one. You never questioned that assumption. I assure you, we don't need wands to work magic - I for one haven't used one in years."  
  
He gave her a long, calculating look. He had underestimated her, and reminded himself not to do so in the future.  
  
She smiled, flattered, and then continued: "Brooms for flying - again unnecessary, except for long distances. Spells - mostly mumbo jumbo. We are slaves to these things. If you want to learn telepathy, you've first got to free your mind."  
  
"Then you and I have more in common than meets the eye," he began with a smile.  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Well I'm very interested in transcending boundaries as well," his eyes now burrowing into her. "That's what we do in the East."  
  
She smiled weakly as she tried to determine her best response. Albus hadn't given her any guidance on discussion of the Dark Arts. "You mean that's what you DID, Mr. Malfoy. The community hasn't engaged in that sort of work in years - a pity really."  
  
"That's because we've been fighting for our lives," he bluntly replied.  
  
Miranda decided cut that thread of conversation and grabbed an orange from the ceramic bowl on the table and peeled it in silence. He watched her and thought that the way she held her lips in an angry little pucker looked sweet even if the kisses he imagined from them would be stolen and bitter. He needed to take control of the conversation and turn it toward more pleasant things if he was to get anywhere at all with her. She looked up sharply at him when she heard that thought and he startled. He was skilled at the art of seduction, but had never plied his trade on a telepath before and felt woefully unprepared for the challenge. When she had peeled the fruit, she divided it with her thumbs causing the juice to drip on the table and the sharp, sweet fragrance to perfume the room. She offered him a slice, which he gratefully accepted and asked pleasantly, "I assume you also do physical transformation as well? What can you become?"  
  
"Anything."  
  
"Anything? That's unusual. Those wizards and witches that are gifted with transformation usually have an affinity for a single animal. Then there are those rare multiple animagi, but even they work with closely related groups. You'll have to prove it. Show me something."  
  
"What would you like me to become?"  
  
"You choose," he said sitting back to enjoy the show.  
  
She ran through a series of creatures, from simple to complex in only a matter of seconds. First she became an iridescent scarab beetle that scurried across the table, then a large golden eagle that glanced at him as it preened, and then a black spotted cheetah that engaged in a staring contest with him. And then Miranda reappeared at the side of the table.  
  
"Amazing!" He cried, clapping loudly.  
  
She smiled, flushed with her success and grabbed the edge of the table in an apparent attempt to steady herself.  
  
Lucius walked behind her to steady her. "Easy now. Just relax."  
  
"I'm, terribly sorry. It's the wine. I'm not used to it. I shouldn't have . . ."  
  
"Never you mind. It's all my fault for insisting. Let me make it up to you," he said wrapping his arms around her and kissing her neck.  
  
At first she seemed to revel in his touch and lay back in his arms. Then he squeezed her tight and she reflexively sank deep into his mind. "2, 3, 5, 7, 9, 12, 15, 18, 22 . . ." he was repeating a sequence of numbers to himself in an effort to keep her out of his thoughts. It was a simple but effective method used to deny telepaths. If she was going to fully assess his weaknesses, she had to get him to stop. She turned round in his arms, pulled the ribbon that bound his hair, and smiled as it fell freely round his shoulders. She drew him closer and ran her hands through it forcing a shiver from him. She kissed him and to distract him as she turned her telepathy on him. At first the voices and images pleasure and love dripped bit-by-bit into his consciousness, and then the discrete drops slipped into a stream of sighs. Her kiss became more intense and the river flowed into a torrent and out into a raging sea. She stopped kissing him, stepped away and narrowed the scope of the sound until he began to hear individual voices whispering to each other and eventually, the sounds just ebbed away.  
  
He reached for her as he said breathlessly, "Oh! Do that again . . ."  
  
She shook her head no. "I really shouldn't have done that in the first place," she said pretending to be flustered. "I really ought to be going."  
  
"Please, Miranda, don't go."  
  
"No . . . I really ought to . . ."  
  
"Miranda. I could help you. As a Governor of the school, I can do a great deal to help your career."  
  
He winced when her open palm fell full force against his face. "How dare you say such a thing to me!  
  
"Miranda, wait!" he called as she slammed the door behind her.

* * *

"Apologies for being so late, but I had to take my time with Professor Traveller," Lucius said with a lascivious grin. He stepped into the room and looked around, disapproving of the spare decoration. "Lovely girl! You should have heard her sing!"  
  
Snape's jaw tightened as he went back to his desk and motioned to Malfoy to have a seat nearby.  
  
"What? She's gorgeous and talented, why shouldn't I take a little bit of that for myself?"  
  
"Does the name Narcissa Malfoy mean nothing to you anymore?" Snape asked bitterly  
  
"You mean my wife?" he said with a chuckle. "Well, we all have to be married to someone, don't we?"  
  
Lucius sat across from his former partner and slapped his leg, "You know, you're turning into an old monk, you know that! When you were younger, you used to enjoy the ladies every bit as much as I still do."  
  
Snape smiled and looked around his room, "To some degree, you're right. The older I get, the less I like to leave the monastery."  
  
"Is that your excuse for not heeding the Master's call? Malfoy asked sharply. "He's quite upset with you for that - issued a warrant for your capture and everything."  
  
Snape startled, "No, I . . . It was impossible for me to get away at that time. I am still faithful."  
  
Malfoy smiled, "Good. Had I not intervened, he might have sent a special activities man to come and bring you back - piece by piece if necessary."  
  
"Thank you, Lucius. I am in your debt."  
  
He shrugged and said, "You saved my skin plenty of times. But you really ought to do something to get back in his good graces. And besides, your time is nearly at hand. You have been here all these years, doing Dumbledore's bidding and gaining his trust. Now that the Master has returned, our man in place will assist us, won't he?"  
  
"Did you have something in mind that would please Him?" Severus asked with a slight grin.  
  
"You could deliver the boy."  
  
"No. I'll not do that."  
  
"Choosing what you will and will not do?" Malfoy asked raising his brow.  
  
"Yes. I always have, and you know that. I would bring an adult, but never a child. Potter is not yet fledged, and until he is, I'll not harm him."  
  
"The telepath then?"  
  
Severus thought for a moment, and solemnly said, "Yes."  
  
"You would deliver her to the Master?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Even if it would mean her death?"  
  
"Her disappearance or death would free up her job. That would work to my advantage," Snape answered coldly.  
  
Lucius smiled and laughed, "Spoken like a true Snape. Your father would be very proud, you know."  
  
Snape merely nodded to acknowledge the truth in Lucius's words.  
  
Lucius stared at Snape for a few moments before continuing, "Severus, the Master has offered me the position that usually has been held by one of the Snapes. Will you contest me?"  
  
"He has asked you to be his counsellor?" Snape asked disbelieveingly  
  
"Yes. I haven't accepted yet, but I am strongly considering it. It would be a big change, that's why I'm taking my time to think it over."  
  
"If you accept, you have my full support. Of course I cannot speak for Salazar."  
  
"Thank you, old friend. Speaking of your brother, how is he?"  
  
"Fine. I visited him only last week. The whole family is well."  
  
"Good. That's what we like to hear. Well it's painfully late, and dining with Traveller has really exhausted me. I ought to be getting back.  
  
Later that evening, Lucius sat at home and leaned over the palantir, waiting for Voldemort to respond to his call. After several minutes, Voldemort's visage emerged from the glowing, swirling smoke that seemed to fill the glass ball. In the few days since Lucius had last spoken with him, Voldemort's hair continued to grow back, his skin had become clearer, and his eyes were less bloody. "Master your appearance improves each time I see you," Lucius remarked in wonder. "You are looking very well, indeed."  
  
"Thank you, Lucius. Nagini's milk works its wonders," Voldemort rasped. "Now, what have you to report?"  
  
"I met with the telepath. She is a remarkably powerful witch, but I do not think that he is a threat," he said attempting to conceal his failure to compromise Miranda from his Master.  
  
Voldemort scanned Lucius's face and asked pointedly, "She may not be a threat, but can she assist us - can she be turned? That is what I asked you to assess."  
  
"I'm not sure, but I think it unlikely, Master," Lucius began haltingly. "You see, she said that she left work as an auror because she wanted a more traditional life - a home, children."  
  
Voldemort cackled hoarsely, "Miller and Salazar were right, then. She must also be very beautiful! I see you already have a strong attachment to her! But I see you did fail to gain a personal advantage over her. Oh my dear Lucius, that is your greatest flaw, you know. You give too much attention and deference to the witches. If you're not careful, they will be your undoing one day."  
  
"Forgive me, Master. In future, I will try harder to be more like you," Lucius said as he turned his eyes respectfully away.  
  
"Forgiven. But given the nature of this assignment, you will need to harden you heart to her wiles."  
  
"Yes, and I will do so. I will make amends and ask to see her again. If she continues to refuse, there is always Snape."  
  
"Yes. And what did you find out about our prodigal son?"  
  
"He still claims loyalty to you, but says that as he gets older he doesn't like to leave the Hogwarts' 'monastery'."  
  
"A tragic end for Sebastian's son," Voldemort said shaking his head sadly. "He could have been so much more."  
  
"Yes, but he is still willing to undertake missions on your behalf."  
  
"Good. I will give that some thought, and see if I have any assignments for him. And what of his relationship with the telepath?"  
  
"I tested those waters by claiming to have had her. He had no response. Furthermore, he is consumed by enough professional rivalry to deliver her to you."  
  
"Excellent," Voldemort replied laughing quietly to himself  
  
"But, keeping in mind Samantha Snape's words, I have asked Draco to keep an eye on them and report any unusual personal contact."  
  
Good. And speaking of your son, the time is drawing near for him to join us. I would like to speak with him soon."  
  
"As you wish."  
  
"And Sebastian's possessions?"  
  
"I was unable to clarify. But I'll be paying a visit to Salazar soon - just a nice social call - I'll see if I can get any information about them then."  
  
"Excellent as usual, Lucius. Keep me apprised."  
  
"I always do, Master."  
  
"I know."  
  
Malfoy covered the palantir and went back downstairs to his room. When he pulled back the blankets and slid into bed next to Narcissa, she sleepily asked, "Lucius, is that you?"  
  
"You were expecting someone else?" he asked, wrapping his strong arms around her. "No," she laughed. "I just. . . Oh!"  
  
For the first time in a long while, he made passionate love to his wife. And for the first time ever, he thought of Miranda instead of Madeline as he did. 


	6. Things Are Not What They Seem

**A Traveller's Tale  
  
by Greta Jameson  
  
Chapter 6: Things Are Not What they Seem  
**  
The next morning, Miranda sat opposite Snape in Albus's office with her arms crossed adamantly across her chest. She pursed her lips and stared angrily at the floor. Snape seemed unconcerned by her display and ignored her as he calmly waited for Dumbledore to begin.  
  
"Miranda, what seems to be the problem?" Albus began gently.  
  
"You know exactly what the problem is, Albus. With all due respect to my colleague," she said gesturing roughly towards Snape, "I would prefer if we privately discussed the events of last night. I would just feel more at ease if . . ."  
  
"Headmaster, I can leave, if you . . ." Snape started diplomatically.  
  
"Stay, stay, Severus. I've known you both a long time, and I don't know what the details are, but I know that you have had some sort of ongoing argument that is the true basis of Miranda's objection."  
  
Both Snape and Miranda shifted uneasily and turned away from each other in response.  
  
"Good. I see that my arrow hit its mark," Albus teased. "Whatever the problem was, it's over now. Do you both understand?" Continuing more seriously, he said, "there are much more important issues on the table than harsh words and wounded pride. Dark forces have tunneled right into the heart of Hogwarts and there's no doubt in my mind that Malfoy was sent here - by Voldemort himself - to assess our awareness of their plans and your individual loyalties. You must put aside your petty personal disagreements and work together. I need you both, as I have never needed you before. We all do."  
  
His appeal moved them and without coaxing, they leaned towards each other and briefly shook hands.  
  
"There, that's more like it," Albus smiled. "Now, Miranda, could you please tell us what happened last night?"  
  
She sighed loudly and began, "Lucius Malfoy used his charm and good looks in an attempt to seduce me last night. He feigned interest in me and my gifts, praised me at every opportunity and cajoled me into sharing a bottle of wine with him. I rebuffed his advances, but was able probe his mind and discovered that his visit was indeed part of a plot by Voldemort to turn me to their cause. He told me that . . ."  
  
Her report was interrupted by a loud knock on the leaded glass window. Albus opened the window and a large falcon lit on the sill, offering the parcel attached to it's outstretched leg. Albus read the address parchment and said with a mischevious grin, "It's for you, my dear, how unexpected."  
  
Miranda bit her lower lip nervously as she undid the ribbon that bound the lid. Penetrating Malfoy's mind had left her drained and confused by what she had found. Lucius had done many terrible things in his life, but unlike so many of the deatheaters, he had acted not to fulfill some bloodlust, but in defense of Voldemort's community and the world that he truly loved. He felt that his actions were justified and in retribution for the cruelties his friends and fellow community members had suffered at the hands of the aurors and the armies of the West. Yesterday morning, her mission like her conscience had been clear, but today's forecast was troublesome and overcast.  
  
She gazed at the contents of the box in awed silence. It contained an exquisite necklace. Each of the tiny flowers comprising the collar was no larger than a thumbnail, but was finely crafted of deep yellow gold. Each blossom had double rows of delicately curved petals with ruby stamens radiating from a diamond center. The note attached to the box read:  
  
_My Dear Miranda:  
  
I hope that you will forgive me for my horrendous behavior last night. I am sincerely sorry for treating you so poorly. You are a remarkable lady and deserve far better from me than I have offered. Please accept this gift as a token of my apology.  
  
I am very truly yours,  
  
Lucius  
_  
She passed the note and the box to Albus, who read it and stared thoughtfully back at her as Snape spoke about his meeting with Lucius. "The Lucius I spoke with last night seemed the same insatiable, power-hungry man that I have always known," he began. "He asked me to deliver Potter to Voldemort, which I refused to do. Then he asked me to deliver, Miranda, which I agreed to do."  
  
"He what?" Miranda cried  
  
"Undoubtedly part of the plan to acquire a telepath and incorporate your skills into the community. If Lucius' seduction fails, they expect me to deliver you by force," he said offhandedly. "He also told me that Voldemort has asked him to be his counsellor, and that he was considering the offer, but had not yet accepted. He left thinking that I am loyal to Voldemort, and that I despise Miranda enough to kill her."  
  
"Thank you both for your excellent work," Albus said. "The foreknowledge of his appointment as counsellor is vital to our plans, Severus. Thank you. Miranda, can you elaborate more on what you were able to glean from his thoughts and memories?"  
  
"Well, there are horrible scenes from his past," she answered holding her hands over her eyes and watching his memories flash by. "Regardless of the court's past rulings, there is information enough here to confirm that Lucius was a willing follower of Voldemort, and not living under the influence of anyone's curse. Then there are recent things of interest, conversations with Voldemort, images of Druben and its layout which will be very useful. . ."  
  
"Sound like an excellent telepathic acquisition then. I'll need you to transfer those memories to my pensieve as soon as you are through with your morning's duties. And," he paused and glanced anxiously at Snape, "I would like you to continue to assess and . . . personally cultivate Malfoy."  
  
"I don't think that that's a very good idea, you don't understand. This has been unexpectedly difficult for me. You'll see for yourself, when you go through his memories. It's not an open and shut case." She looked awkwardly around to avoid telling him that for the first time in her career, she felt compassion towards her target.  
  
Albus smiled gently and said, "Miranda, I understand perfectly the personal issues involved. At least I think I do. However, given Severus' report, I feel that we must allow them to think that the velvet glove approach is working - for your own safety, of course.  
  
"Albus, I really don't want to do this. This is a situation that could very easily go beyond our positive control. The acquisition has allowed me to understand so much about his motivation, his hopes, his fears and his regrets. It has created a bond between us that may make it difficult to keep an appropriate professional distance."  
  
"Absolutely ridiculous!" Snape spat. "Lucius is a cold-blooded killer and nothing but a servant of Voldemort's twisted will!"  
  
Miranda shook her head and quietly reminded him, "There was once something worth believing in Severus. Or has your memory failed you once again?"  
  
Snape stared back hatefully at her before drawing his cloak closed and turning back toward Albus.  
  
"That's enough, Miranda," Dumbledore cautioned. "Remember we all have to work together if we are to win this one." He sighed loudly and continued, "Miranda, I would like you to return Lucius' gift immediately and send with it a letter that speaks of your . . .understanding of him, but also of your reluctance to become involved with him - perhaps because of his standing in Voldemort's world."  
  
"That much I can do. But I should not be alone with him." She looked toward the door as the bell tolled a quarter to nine and said, "I know I cannot trust him . . . and I'm not sure that I can trust myself."  
  
"I'll take that into consideration and offer what guidance that I can throughout. I think it would be best if you deposit Lucius' memories in my Pensieve as soon as possible. You'll feel better when you are free to them."  
  
She left the room with barely a nod for either man, and went to teach her first class at Hogwarts. As she walked towards her classroom, she reflected that his memories had given her a unique view into the mind of the adversary that she couldn't easily forget. Worst of all perhaps, she saw herself and all of the aurors as an invading army out to obliterate a small group of scholarly people that Voldemort's community once was.  
  
After the echo of her footsteps had faded, Snape shifted uncomfortably in his chair and wondered whether or not he should voice his concerns.  
  
"Yes Severus, Do you have something that you'd like to discuss with me?" Albus queried  
  
"It's really not my place to say, but I don't think its right for you should force her to do this. Even I can see that it's going against all of her best instincts, and I hardly know her."  
  
"I'm asking her to work with Malfoy to buy us some time, Severus. I have to think of how to turn this situation to our advantage and I need a few more . . ."  
  
You are using this woman as bait to catch Lucius Malfoy," Severus interrupted forcefully. "You don't know him like I do. If he realizes that she is associating with him for strategic purposes, he will kill her without so much as a second thought!"  
  
"Yes, this one is a bit tricky, but it is also a unique opportunity to recruit the second most powerful person in Voldemort's world."  
  
"Opportunity? Is running a successful operation the only thing you care about?"  
  
"Severus, I realize that your concern for Miranda is the cause for your anger, but . . ."  
  
"I have no concern for Miranda! My only concern is for the safety of my colleague!" he shouted over Albus.  
  
"But Severus, Miranda has done this for us before - quite successfully."  
  
Snape closed his eyes and sank back in his chair.  
  
"Come on, you know how it is," Albus began gently. "Every auror young enough or attractive enough uses the promise of love when it is deemed the best way to manipulate a potential asset. And besides, he already desires her. I'm hoping he'll fall in love with her.  
  
Severus shook his head disbelievingly. "No. Lucius is no fool and he's very unpredictable. If he falls in love with her, he is likely to carry her off to Druben."  
  
"The details are still taking shape in my mind, but that is exactly what I wish for him to do."  
  
Severus stared coldly back at him and felt that bottomless pit open inside him once again. "If he harms her in any way, Albus," Snape hissed as he stood up abruptly. "I swear that my revenge will make my father's entire life look like an opening act!" He walked quickly to the door, but before he touched the handle, he turned around and stared in shock at Dumbledore. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. I . . "  
  
"Sit down, Severus," Albus commanded gently. "There's something I should have told you a long time ago. Something about Miranda. . ."

* * *

The Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth years walked into a Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom unlike one they had ever seen before. The orderly rows and columns of tables were replaced by groups of four and five desks. Behind a large, wooden table at the front of the room, Miranda Traveller sat leaning back in her chair, feet on the desk, reading a muggle news magazine. She was dressed in a pair of worn denim trousers, a large cobalt sweater, and cordovan loafers. When students stared a bit too long, she would look up briefly from her reading and say with a smile: "Come in, sit wherever you'd like." When all of the students found chairs, she sat forward with her chin resting on her hands and scanned the room, making momentary eye contact with each student.  
  
"This will never do, people," she said as she stood up. "Look at what you've done: Slytherins all grouped on this side of the room, and Gryffindors all together over here. This is a large class, twenty-seven of you. Three pods of desks on each side of the room. I want two people from each Slytherin group to get up and switch places with two people in the opposite Gryffindor group, starting with you, Mr. Weasley and you, Miss Granger. You two switch with Mr. Harrison and Miss Miles." Ron and Hermione looked anxiously at each other, but got up and moved.  
  
When all the moving and grumbling was through, she continued, "Alright, now we have even distribution of the two houses. Now, I want to break up the house couples, where possible. Each table of four will alternate one student from each house. These will be your seats until further notice."  
  
Then Miranda walked around the front of the desk and asked, "Why do you suppose I did this? Any thoughts on why I arranged the classroom this way?" Her question was answered by silence. Even Hermione was quiet.  
  
"I've removed the rows, because in addition to individual achievement, this class will focus on problem solving. I will often give you scenarios to solve or roles to play and you will approach them as group efforts. The spaces between the groups of desks are wide, because I will move throughout the room during classes. There will be less of a boundary between teacher and student as we try to navigate a path through the dark underworld. And lastly, the houses are mixed because bravery and ambition are not rivals to be pitted against each other. In the proper mix, they keep each other in check and can spur truly outstanding achievements. You will learn respect for each other. We must band together; dangerous times lie before us all."  
  
She slowly walked around the room as she introduced herself, "My name is Miranda Traveller. My gifts are transformation and telepathy. I am an auror, who has practiced the craft to one degree or another since I was six years old. I learned the craft from my father in the eastern forests. Together with my mother, he . . ."  
  
"If you are such a powerful witch, why are you dressed in those muggle rags?" Draco Malfoy asked boldly.  
  
She turned round to face him and smiled, "Good question, Mr. Malfoy. What do you think?" When he looked away, she opened the question to the floor, "Anybody?" Still silence, this time punctuated by a few girlish giggles. Miranda quickly walked over to the Slytherin girls, "Miss Rodman and Miss Johnstone, why did you laugh?" They froze in terror of her question. "Come on. If you were walking through the park, and saw someone who looked like me, what would you assume?"  
  
"That . . . you were muggle," Celia Johnstone finally blurted out.  
  
"Exactly! Things are not always what they seem"  
  
"Brilliant," drawled Draco under his breath.  
  
Miranda wheeled round and flew over to Malfoy, slamming her hands loudly on his desktop. "You may leave this instant if you wish, Mr. Malfoy"! she said loudly. "But I suggest you stay, because the Dark World is dangerous to those who choose to remain outside it, to those who tiptoe through its shallows," and bringing her face close to his she said, "and to those who wal-low in it."  
  
In the seconds that followed, the room seemed to darken, but Miranda glowed as if she had gathered all of the light to her. She stood to her full height, and transformed in to an enormous hooded snake towering over Malfoy, ready to strike. She allowed him a few moments of sheer panic, then went back to her normal self in muggle clothing and continued: "I will tolerate no more of your disrespectful commentary. If I hear any, Slytherin will loose points. And remember," she said with a grin, "I can read minds."  
  
Then, addressing the entire class once again, she said, "Miss Johnstone said that if she saw me in the Park, she would assume that I was a muggle, but I'm not. In what ways other than dress do we signify who we are? Just call out answers, don't be shy."  
  
"Manners and speech," Hermione called out.  
  
"Good, Miss Granger, any other ways?"  
  
The answers came from around the room, "Posture."  
  
"Hygiene."  
  
"True, we equate dirty and bad, don't we? In fact, it's rarely true, at least in my experience." Then after a pause, she said, "There's something else I'm looking for . . . any ideas?"  
  
All she received were silent stares in reply.  
  
"Probably the most important indicators are our thoughts and intentions. None of you can hear other's thoughts like I can, but all wizards and witches can sense them. No matter how benign you appear, if you are bent on evil and make no effort to disguise it, you will be detected. It is that sense that you must employ throughout your lives, and it is that sense that I will teach you to cultivate in this class.  
  
"I will also teach you how to shield your own mind from hostile agents, so that they will have difficulty detecting you. I have spent many days by Voldemort's side, and he was never aware that I was more than a sympathetic companion. Such is the importance of self-defense."  
  
Tremors of terror emanated from the Gryffindors and Slytherins alike.  
  
"How come you didn't kill him when you had the chance?" asked Ron incredulously.  
  
"Quite simply, Mr. Weasley, because it was not - my - job. My assignment was to observe and report, so that is what I did.  
  
"Now, I'd like to play a little game I call 'Friend or Foe'," she said, conjuring a large screen at the front of the classroom. "Your survival may depend on your ability to assess threats. As you move through the world, you must be alert to hostile surveillance - enemy agents may be watching you. You must be aware of both magical and muggle security systems that might expose your presence. And lastly, if traveling in disguise be on the lookout for the unexpected risk of meeting a friend or acquaintance that may unintentionally expose your true identity. On this screen, scenes will appear, some familiar, some less so, with multiple characters. The point is to assess the type of threat posed. Just call out your answers, don't be shy."  
  
The first images that appeared on the screen were street scenes in Diagon Alley. Students whispered happily to themselves as they recognized Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, and the Apothecary. Then the image of Gringotts fixed on the screen. Wizards, witches and a host of magical creatures entered and exited the bank. A witch played her flute near the corner, and a workman washed the windows of a nearby shop.  
  
"Any ideas about what the threat or threats are?''  
  
The students looked nervously at one another; it looked like a normal threat-free street.  
  
"Well there are actually several threats portrayed." She waved her hand in front of the screen, and the bank glowed more brightly than the rest of the scene. "Wherever important transactions of business take place, hostile surveillance is sure to be present. Here, we have people depositing and withdrawing money. Other places to watch are Ministry buildings, Embassies, and sometimes Universities. The profile of people visiting these places and the frequency of their visits could be important pieces of information. Which of the people in the scene are likely to be watching others?"  
  
"Oh, the people who are sitting or standing in one place," said Hermione.  
  
"Very good. And who are they?"  
  
"The flute player," said Slytherin Robert Harrison.  
  
"Good. Anybody else?"  
  
"The workman," three students yelled simultaneously.  
  
"Excellent! You've got to be particularly careful of workmen. They have ladders and tools and can get into places very easily - excellent cover for an enemy agent, at least in our world."  
  
The next scene was the lobby of a grand hotel, much larger and brighter than the Leaky Cauldron. To the right, as one entered the lobby was a small restaurant, and opposite the reception desk stood rows of plush, comfortable-looking chairs and sofas. "This is a hotel in Paris, frequented by both muggles and magicals. Ideas as to threats?"  
  
Having learned from the last scene they took a while to examine the entire picture, instead of focusing only on the main activity. "Reception knows when you check in and check out," said Linda Thorne, one of the Gryffindors.  
  
"Absolutely. What else?"  
  
"The whole thing looks threatening to me," Hermione said with a grimace.  
  
"Have you ever considered a career as an auror, Miss Granger?"  
  
She blushed, and gave a flustered, "Umm, yes," in reply.  
  
"Good. What are some of the threatening things that you see?"  
  
"Well, anyone in those chairs who seem to be waiting could actually be watching, especially this fellow with the newspaper in front of his face. And over here at the café, any of the diners could be doing surveillance as well as eating."  
  
A broad smile spread across Miranda's face. "Excellent. Now let someone else have a crack at it. Anything else?"  
  
"Oh, those muggle cameras. Over on the ceiling." said Fiona Williams, a Slytherin girl.  
  
"Great job. Hotels are very dangerous places, that is if do not wish to be seen. You all did very well. Now, what do you do once you have identified a threat?"  
  
This time they didn't to be coaxed, students around the room yelled out answers:  
  
"Confound them"  
  
"Curse them"  
  
"No, a hex"  
  
She waited for the din to pass, and whispered loudly, "When one has detected a threat. The most prudent course of action . . . is to do NOTHING. You will loose your advantage if you let them know that they have been identified. You may also put yourself in great danger. Let me show you what I mean," she said as she walked to the right and into her office at the back of the classroom.  
  
After some loud rummaging she emerged with a long ash staff and walked slowly back to the front of the class. "This staff, looks like an ordinary piece of wood, doesn't it? But its not. If fact it's not wood at all, it's . . ." but she was interrupted by the tolling bell which signified the end of the class period. "Very well, for the next class, I want each group to design two Friend or Foe exercises, and I will post the best examples. There is no assigned text; instead there will be a final project that constitutes fifty percent of your grade. I want you to begin exploring the subject of self-defense on your own. I am of course available for consultation, my office hours are posted on the door." Then she said, "Class dismissed," as she disappeared and the staff clattered loudly to the floor.  
  
The students were stunned and remained in their chairs - they all knew that it was impossible to dissapparate within the confines of Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore, entered the classroom and quietly urged the students to move on to their next classes. When he was alone in the room, he shut both doors, walked over to Miranda's office and quietly said, "You can come out now, dear. They're gone."  
  
The office door opened a creak, and Miranda peeked out, and asked with a smile, "How'd I do?"  
  
"You are to be congratulated on your knowledge, pedagogy and your showmanship, I have only one question?" he said smiling.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"What in the world were you going to do with that staff?"  
  
She laughed and said, "I haven't a clue  
  
That doppell was only a shell, a powerless representation; it couldn't have done any magic at all. It was just a dramatic way to conclude the class."  
  
"As I suspected," he said as he stared grimly at her.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"I've come to ask you a favor."  
  
"Anything, of course."  
  
"I have received no replies to my owls asking for Pass eradication experts. I fear the owl was intercepted and I need you to send a telepathic transmission to your father."  
  
"My father?"  
  
"Yes, I need him to assemble as many defense and security experts as he can on short notice and get them here at once . . . quickly, but quietly."  
  
"Yes, of course I will. But I'm afraid I don't understand the urgency of your request."  
  
"Well I also sent a letter to your father informing him that I was in receipt of Sebastian Snape's papers," Dumbledore replied.  
  
"Oh, Albus! You didn't!" Miranda gasped  
  
"I'm afraid I did, my dear. And if Voldemort's agents intercepted that letter, it won't be long before they come to claim their legacy. Before long, Hogwarts itself may be under siege."

* * *

Snape didn't have much time to prepare for the next class and moved quickly around the room fitting lids on cauldrons and using magic to parcel out supplies and chemicals for the students. He was shocked and angry that Dumbledore had failed to prepare him for this moment. How was he supposed to behave around Miranda now that he knew? What was he supposed to say?  
  
When he had completed the lab set up, he slumped down in a chair with the heels of his hands pressed hard against his tired eyes. It was a delicate situation. In a single moment a stranger had come to occupy the most intimate and significant place in his life. Long ago, when he was imprisoned in for disobeying Voldemort's orders, Miranda was the voice that had kept him sane. Everyday without fail she was the voice that spoke kindly to him and kept him hopeful that he would someday be released. And it was she who told him to seek out Dumbledore and who had changed the course his life.  
  
Over the years, emotion and reason had colored and dulled his memories of those times, and he began to think that he had imagined the voice. But still during his service as Albus's double agent - when he seemed to return to Voldemort's side - the memory of the voice had also comforted him. On troubled nights, when his deeds threatened to overtake him, it calmed him and lent the illusion of purpose to all the death. Over the years his life had become a landscape of lies, but real or imagined, the voice was his one true thing.  
  
The sound of students walking loudly down the steps interrupted his contemplation. Snape walked to the front of the class, and fingered through his lesson plan as Draco tumbled roughly into the room, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
As the class wore on, Draco heard Snape's voice droning on about the day's lesson, but hardly paid attention as he worried about the comments Traveller made in her class. He wondered what Traveller knew about his family and his father's activities. Should he tell his father what she said? Or was he reading too much into her words?  
  
"Mr. Malfoy! Time to wake up!" Snape said as the other students were beginning their preparations.  
  
Draco roused as if from a sleep and began to fumble with the supplies in front of him. He had neglected to read the lesson in advance and had no idea of what to do, so he glanced anxiously at Fiona Williams. She did nothing to help him until Snape turned away, and then whispered, "It's a concealment potion. It's not in the book, it's his own concoction - he gave us the recipe at the end of the last class on a parchment."  
  
He just shrugged his shoulders and looked at her with his head tilted to one side.  
  
"You really are a piece of work, aren't you," she said cattily. "Here, we can share mine. You slice up the leeches," Fiona said handing Draco the plate and dissecting knife.  
  
"No way!"  
  
She looked at him and calmly said, "If you want any further help from me, you'll slice the leeches."  
  
He grimaced as his hand touched the first worm.  
  
"And be careful about it. You only want the salivary glands, that's where most of the hirudin is."  
  
Draco macerated the leeches while Fiona worked the lanthanum into a fine powder with the mortar and pestle. When Celia whispered to Fiona, Draco nicked a few pieces of the lanthanum rock and hurled one of them at Neville Longbottom, who frowned and looked back at him.  
  
A few moments later he hurled another tiny rock at Neville's partner. A crash of glassware followed as the rock struck the back of Harry's neck. Snape quickly came over to assess the problem, "Five points from Slytherin," he said coldly.  
  
He sidled over to Draco as the Slytherins protested the deduction and quietly said, "One hand washes the other, Mr. Malfoy. In future, you can only expect my protection when you have the courtesy to prepare for my class." Draco stared back at Snape, as he vainly thought of something to say in response. Then, Hermione whispered loudly, "Ron, for the last time, would you put those away!"  
  
Snape turned from Draco, magically righted Harry's worktable and went over to Ron and Hermione. "What is more important to you than today's lesson, Mr. Weasley?"  
  
"Nothing Sir," said Ron fearfully.  
  
"Let me have those papers," he whispered.  
  
"What papers?" asked Ron innocently.  
  
"The papers that you are holding on your lap, you insolent fool."  
  
Ron slowly handed Snape the stack of encrypted messages with a shaking hand. Snape looked at each page in turn and said, "Two weeks detention and ten points from Gryffindor, for Mr. Weasley's lack of attention. Ron started with an open mouth, but Hermione said, "Professor Snape, Ron was . . ."  
  
"I will tolerate no further abuses of my generosity," he boomed. "Finish your work - and not a single word from any of you!"

* * *

Lucius sat in the front room of the Malfoy family home. It was a large room divided into several areas to receive guests. As he relaxed into the sofa, his lightly colored clothes disappeared into the champagne-damask fabric. He read the last of the days' newspapers and waited for the afternoon post. He was trying not to think about her, but he was waiting for Miranda's reply. When the falcon finally arrived, bearing a box and a letter he smiled and threw the news aside. He leaned forward, and checked the box; the necklace was still inside - good girl. Then he placed the letter on his lap, and sank back into the couch to read:  
  
_Dear Lucius:  
  
I will not accept your gift and I am divided over whether I should accept your apology. The necklace is beautiful and I am sure valuable, but I am a woman whom you cannot buy.  
  
"So sweetly superior - I am so undeserving!" Lucius smiled and purred to himself.  
  
I enjoyed your company last night. You were kind, polite, interesting to talk to and interested in me - I thought it possible that I had found a new friend. I was happy to try to please you by conjuring a lovely garden and a delicious meal. But to offer to assist my career in return for my affections was a perverse end to an otherwise enjoyable evening.  
  
"Yes tell me how awful I am - I want you to!" he said still smiling.  
  
Because I am a telepath, I know that it was your loss of Madeline that led you to Voldemort, and I also know of your willing and continued support of him. Although I think you a desirable man, I do not wish to associate with someone who owes such close allegiance to the Dark Lord. A relationship between us is possible only if you abandon your ties to Him.  
  
I have left my life as an auror and do not wish to be your enemy. I bear you no ill will and, naïvely perhaps, also hope that you abandon your explorations of the netherworld. Regardless of your choices, I wish you the best.  
  
Miranda Traveller  
_  
He threw the letter onto the table in front of him, and pressed his palms together to contain the rage that rose like a red tide to blind him. He paced furiously around the room as he shimmered with energy and wondered if there was anything about him that she didn't know. How dare she violate him like this! And then be fool enough to tell him what she had done! She had made an unfortunate and possibly fatal mistake and would be made to suffer for her offense.

* * *

Salazar and Madeline Snape slept peacefully in their bed - or at least Madeline did. Salazar's sleep was racked with frightening dreams. He wrestled with a foe who was on the brink of overpowering him and yelled, "No! I won't let you!"  
  
"Salazar, wake up! You're having a nightmare!" she cried as she shook him.  
  
As he came to he grabbed Madeline roughly by the arms and continued to fight. When she screamed, he looked wildly around the room. And In an instant he recognized familiar surroundings and released her. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."  
  
"It's alright, now. It was just a dream," she said as she smoothed his brow.  
  
He lay on his back, panting, "It was so real. It was my father. It started out nicely enough. Sebastian praised me for what a good son I had been and said he had a favor to ask of me."  
  
Madeline smiled ruefully to herself to think that that beast of a man continued to haunt their dreams so long after his death.  
  
"And then he asked to share my body," Salazar continued. "When I refused, he wrestled me to the ground with the strength of ten men and . . ."  
  
"Never mind. It's over now. It was just a dream, that's all. It wasn't real. Let's go back to sleep," she said as she curled up by his side. In a few minutes she was asleep, but Salazar remained awake and stared watchfully into the night. 


	7. Rain in the Desert

**A Traveller's Tale  
  
by Greta Jameson  
  
7: Rain in the Desert**  
  
Ron wolfed down his dinner in silence, impervious even to Hermione's apologies and Harry's half-smiles, and quickly departed for his detention assignment. As he went, he thought about how walking around the empty halls of the castle at night had frightened him when he was younger. Then he thought about the jars lining the walls of Snape's classroom and how grotesque they looked at night. Each large jar held a creature submerged in preservative solution that ranged from clear in color to a dark yellowish brown. One jar held a flat-nosed fish with whiskers and cat-like fangs. Another held a tiny, pixie-like creature with translucent skin that allowed clear view of its internal organs and bones. Ron shivered to think about them, but soon reminded himself that he was an upperclassman now. He was older and stronger now, and perhaps even a bit wiser than he was when he first came to Hogwarts, and by the time he reached the potions classroom, he felt ready to face Snape.  
  
He came to an abrupt stop soon after he entered the deserted classroom and listened to the voices coming from Snape's office.  
  
"Why can you not just tell me now, Severus?" the vistor insisted  
  
"Because I'm planning to present that information next Saturday, and cannot speak about it until then," Snape whispered furtively.  
  
Very well. I can wait for a few more days. You say the meeting is to be in the defense classroom at noon?  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'll see you then," the tall hooded man replied as he departed, nearly knocking Ron over as he passed.  
  
Ron had barely recovered from the shock of the stranger's passing when he heard Snape menace, "Good evening, Mr. Weasley. So glad you could come."  
  
"Yes sir," Ron stammered as he walked through the door.  
  
Snape followed him inside and said, "Look here Weasley; I will not tolerate you pursuing your hobbies during my class time."  
  
"I'm terribly sorry, sir."  
  
"But for detention, I'm going to kill you with kindness," he said throwing a stack of encrypted papers onto the desk in front of Ron. "I have stacks, no . . . crates of these enciphered pages, and I want you to help me break the code."  
  
Ron brightened and looked expectantly at Snape.  
  
"Well don't just stand there, get a move on!"  
  
Ron thumbed through the pages as he sat down, "Looks complicated."  
  
"It was written by a master codemaker."  
  
"Anything else you can tell me, any other provenance?"  
  
Snape smiled at the unexpected sophistication of the question and answered, "English - 20th Century, mixed reporting, history, concepts, perhaps some spells."  
  
"That's not a lot to go on," said Ron thinking aloud. "To whom was he writing?"  
  
"The writings were intended for his heir, for me, so I could carry on in his footsteps."  
  
Ron examined the rows of letters and numbers. There were no spaces in between the characters, so words or phrases were impossible to detect. "Remarkable thing, Professor," Ron smiled, "Is that in all of these pages, there isn't a single mistake or even a misplaced drop of ink."  
  
"Yes, Mr. Weasley, my father was very precise about a great many things."  
  
"Well, when in doubt," Ron said after looking the stack of pages, "do a frequency count."  
  
Snape pushed some parchment and a quill over to him and took half the stack of enciphered pages for his own perusal. He wrote the first letter from Sebastian's cipher on the first page on his record sheet, and then scanned the page for other occurrences of that letter. Each time he spotted the letter, he placed a slash next to the letter on his record. Ron did the same for his first page, and slowly worked his way across all of the characters in the first line. After the first hour or so, they each had completed two pages of Sebastian's manuscript.  
  
They worked on for another couple of hours, and when the tower bell sounded half-past eight, Snape said, "That is a good start, you may go, Mr. Weasley. Same time and place tomorrow. Are there any patterns emerging from your sheets?"  
  
"Too soon to tell, sir. I need to go through more of the raw traffic first."

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy dined alone again - as she had for so many days and night of her married life. Lucius had left abruptly on business, and hadn't been home in several days. She didn't care where he had gone or what he was doing. She cared only about who he might be with. He had become more secretive again in recent months and gone for longer periods of time and she worried that he was once again supporting Voldemort. As she sat at the table, she promised herself that she would not go through another round of trials. For she could not endure the shame that they had heaped on the family once again.

* * *

Miranda lay on the quilts and skins piled by the fireplace that served as her bed and brooded about Lucius Malfoy. It had been days since she had returned the necklace, and his silence worried her. She thought about using her telepathy to find out what he was up to, but decided against it, to avoid the risk of detection. In an effort to stop thinking about him, she opened one of her favorite books from her schooldays: The fable of _Jaya and the Occamy_. The last time she had read this book, she had been almost nineteen and was about to leave Beauxbatons to return to England for training as an auror. As each of the tiny figures stood up from the page to act out their parts they waved at her and remarked that it was good to see her again. Jaya's mean-spirited grandmother, however, took her by surprise when she commented on the first of the gray hairs on Miranda's head.  
  
_The story began on a dusty village road running from a small cluster of huts to the river. Jaya had been sent by her grandmother to fetch water from the river, but on her way back she had stopped to listen to an argument between two birds. She put the heavy clay pot down, wiped her brow and looked up at the sun that punished them with its intolerable heat as the birds argued on. The peacock strutted back and forth on the wall with his beautiful tail partially unfurled and insisted that he was, "Lucky to have been born so beautiful, for beauty is by far the best quality that one could possess."  
  
The Toucan sitting on a branch near the peacock disagreed and declared as he dropped a nut on the rock below, "No, no, no it is far more useful to be intelligent!" and flew down to pick the meat out of the shattered shell.  
  
"Heavens no!" cried the peacock as he unrolled his tail and rattled his feathers loudly. "Beauty will open more . . ."_

But the peacock cried out in alarm and disappeared into the page along with the other characters as the door to Miranda's room flew open and a scowling Lucius Malfoy strode in.  
  
"What in the world?" Miranda called out as she sat up. "What do you think your doing? You have no right to barge in here like this!"  
  
"It's time you and I had a little chat, Professor," he menaced softly as he walked over to her.  
  
"About what?" she asked innocently as a burst of adrenaline warmed her belly.  
  
"About your letter, my dear, what else?" He laughed cruelly as he approached.  
  
He began to pace in front of her. She anxiously watched him and hoped he would take off his gloves. She would be safe if only he would . . .  
  
He wheeled around and jabbed her roughly with his walking stick. "You know, you really have created quite a problem for me Professor," he began viciously. I don't know whether I should kill you, take you back to Druben with me, or just let you go after getting a pledge of silence."  
  
"Lucius, let me explain," she started as she wiped a stray tear away.  
  
"No, it's not going to work this time, Professor. I don't make the same mistake twice," he laughed. "So save your shy smiles and your tears . . . I know it's all an act."  
  
"Lucius, it's not an . . ."  
  
Silence!" he roared, causing her to shake. He watched her for a moment assessingwhether her fear was genuine, and then continued more gently, "Now where were we? Ah. I can't let you just wander off knowing what you now know about me. You would be too much of a threat. So what does that leave us, hmm?"  
  
"Lucius . . . please," she silently begged, as she slipped inside his mind. She found that this was only an initial show of strength, a bit of bluster intended only to frighten her. He had more subtle things than murder or kidnapping on his mind.  
  
"Please what?" he asked as he touched her hair. "Please don't kill you?"  
  
She could only nod in reply.  
  
"Well you're in luck, Professor. I have no intention of killing you. At least not tonight. True, it would protect me, but it would displease the Master. He is very eager to meet you, you know."  
  
"I'll not go. I'll fight you every step of the way."  
  
"Yes. I assumed you would. And since you and I are fairly well matched, it would be quite a battle if I tried to take you by force. That would be terrible for my public image. Imagine the _Prophet_ headlines," he said as he swept his hands an arc in front of her, _"Governor of Hogwarts Destroys School."  
_  
She waited for him to draw his wand or cast the first curse.  
  
"So . . . I'm not going to kill you," he continued, "I'm not going to let you go, and I'm not going to force you to come East with me. What do you think I'm going to do with you then?" He asked as he sat down beside her.

She recoiled but he draped his arm across her shoulders and drew her back. He searched her face for some trace of feeling but found only the studied neutrality of a professional auror. He took her right hand in his and said calmly, "I'm going to try to convince you to willingly join us."  
  
"Never."  
  
"Never? Why do you say that, my dear? There's a great deal more to Slytherin's ideals than revenge against the crimes of muggles and preservation of the race, you know. We only want to build a world in which we can live free from the Ministry's yoke; a world in which we magicals can reach our full potential. That's the way it was before all the fighting began, Miranda. And," he whispered with all traces of cruelty and guile gone from his voice," I know . . . that you know . . . I'm telling the truth."  
  
"I don't know anything of the sort," she lied as she turned away.  
  
"Miranda," he said as he let her go, "Look at me and tell me that you have no idea what I'm talking about." She looked into his eyes and saw not an enemy, but only a man. And as a man, he had known the very extremes of human experience. She knew that he could escape the confines of his body and merge with his brothers and sisters in Voldemort's community and that that was the life and the power that he so persistently sought. But she also knew that his elegant face had been twisted into paroxysms of rage on many occasions as he took the lives of his enemies. "I can't, Lucius. I do know."  
  
He had gambled with the guess that she knew, and smiled to himself at his small but important triumph over her. "Then help me, Miranda. Come with me and see for yourself how we live. Come and see that we only want to live in peace."  
  
She shook her head no. "I cannot. I know that those are your goals, Lucius. But those are no longer the goals of your Master. He has become twisted and broken by the limitless powers he has found and cannot see beyond his hatred and revenge." She held his hand tightly and entreated, "If you really want to restore the community to its original charter, then state your case to Albus. He will help you."  
  
"Albus Dumbledore is nothing but the Ministry's lapdog," he replied bitterly, angry at her refusal. "He would never assist us. You, on the other hand, might be convinced to."  
  
"I don't think so, Lucius."  
  
"Well you just think about it. I know you're a smart girl. In fact, I've learned a great deal about you in the last few days," he said grinning.  
  
"What are you talking about?" she asked fearfully  
  
"I'm talking about a couple of little secrets that would sully the Minister's daughter's otherwise sterling reputation."  
  
She flew away from him, alarmed at this sudden turn, and berated herself for her foolishness.  
  
"Nothing to worry about, my dear. Just a little indiscretion between you and your old Defense Professor at Beauxbatons."  
  
Miranda turned her head away as she remembered how his voice had conjured images of his home on the high steppes in her mind. "I was just a girl, Lucius. Just seventeen . . ."  
  
"Yes you were. And it was pretty tame as scandals go. But it did get him dismissed from his post and sent back East and . . ."  
  
_Please don't let him have found out about the rest,_ she worried to herself.  
  
". . . There is the matter of his little present."  
  
Miranda held her head in her hands as she remembered.  
  
"It must have been very difficult for you to have lived in a transformed state for all of those months," he taunted. "And then birthing him in the dungeon with only the headmistress and nurse to help. Tsk, tsk, tsk, it must have really been terrible."  
  
"It was."  
  
"But there was something wrong with him wasn't there? That horrible shrieking . . . and his constant transformation!"  
  
"No, you're wrong. He was perfect. He just inherited my gifts. I was exactly like that."  
  
"Well, did you ever wonder what happened to him?"  
  
"All the time."  
  
"And," he said coming up close behind her, "Sometimes in the middle of the night, you can even hear him crying, can't you?"  
  
"Stop, please, Lucius. I don't want to think about him anymore."  
  
He leaned close and asked viciously, "So, how does it feel, my little telepath, to have a stranger dig up your secrets? Now you know what its like to be one of your own victims. Tell me, how does it feel?"  
  
She didn't know why she said it, but the word came as a sudden revelation to her and echoed like a silver bell in the darkness. "Liberating," she whispered slowly.  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"I said it was liberating," she said slowly, savoring the words in her mouth. "I have been carrying that burden for years all by myself. And now I share it with you. It is liberating!" she laughed giddily. "Thank you, Lucius!"  
  
He frowned to see that her fear had faded and folded his arms angrily across his chest. "We'll find him. If he's still alive, we'll find the boy!"  
  
"Go ahead. You can only use him against me if I let you. And I won't let you. It's just a sad chapter in the life of the foolish girl that I once was. And it pales in comparison to your own sins."  
  
"And what do you pretend to know about them, Professor?"  
  
She leaned in close and whispered, "Guthulu."  
  
Of all of his horrible deeds, that one word represented the worst of them all. He wanted to turn away from her and from what he had done. But he held his ground and managed to blurt out, "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Then let me refresh your memory," she roared as she knocked him down with the force of her arms and mind together.

Without warning, he was in the middle of a terrifying roar of sound. It didn't approach and overtake him like a huge wave. No, the cacophony was one moment absent, and the next moment present. He tried to get away from her, but found that he could barely move. He couldn't see the room around him at all; there was nothing but darkness. He lay there, paralyzed and blind; overcome by the horror of it all.  
  
"I am here - with you," he heard Miranda's voice above the din.  
  
He grabbed her, clutching her hands tightly in his own. His breathing became quick and shallow with panic.  
  
He saw himself as a young man fiercely engaged with his most hated enemy. Steel rang against steel as the battle between the two raged on. Finally his blade sliced her and she fell to the ground. He caught his breath as he watched her die; happy that he had finally killed the Guthulu witch.  
  
"I had to do it," he choked. "It was foretold that the child would overthrow Voldemort. I had been hunting her for months, but she always evaded us. It wasn't my fault that I came upon her so late.

"And then what happened?"  
  
"Oh . . . it was terrible. I was about the remount my horse when I heard it whimper. I turned round to find it laying there next to its dead mother, drawing its first breath. My last blow was enough to birth it right there on the forest floor."  
  
Miranda held him tight as he began to gasp, "He was still blue and covered with wax. They were all watching me to see what I would do. I had to do it. Oh! Miranda," he cried as he held her close. "It was horrible, he didn't cry or scream, but he cooed. I tell you he cooed as my dagger sliced his throat."  
  
"And that night still haunts you?"  
  
"It is a stain on my family that can never be washed away," he cried. "I will never forgive myself for what I did that night!"  
  
He sobbed and clung to her as she stroked his back to soothe him. "I know about that night, and I know about the other nights too. Oh Lucius, share the weight of those memories with me. And let it be a bond between us. Protect me from Voldemort and I will spare you from Azkaban."  
  
He wearily looked at her as a deep sleep overtook him. Miranda whispered softly as he drifted in his enchanted dream, "Lucius, try to remember who you once were. Go back to a time before Voldemort, before the community and even before Madeline. Come back to us and we will help you. If you just try to save yourself, you will be redeemed."


	8. Sebastian's Skytale

**A Traveller's Tale  
  
by Greta Jameson  
  
8: Sebastian's Skytale**

****   
  
Lucius sat in a large, high-backed chair to Voldemort's right. His chair, like that of his master was carved from a single block of dark walnut, and was a relic from an age long past. Each was covered with intricate high- relief carvings that began as sinuous tree roots on the legs and culminated in the arched back of fanged serpents. The eyes of the snakes were set with faceted gems - multicolored on Lucius' chair, and glittering red on Voldemort's. Lucius was tired but pretended to partake in the events and conversations around him. He leaned back in his chair, traced the body of a serpent on the arm of his chair with his forefinger and contemplated what he should do about Miranda. He had left her sleeping by the fire. He didn't want to leave, but knew his proper place was at Voldemort's side, not at hers.  
  
He closed his eyes and let a few images of her pass by: the dance of firelight on her paisley quilt . . . the way her curls framed her face. Witches like that didn't come along everyday, he thought as he smiled to himself. She was so beautiful and so . . . powerful; he didn't know which he desired more, her beauty or her power. He wondered why he wanted her so badly. Was it some spell that she had cast over him? Was it that he might have found someone to ease the loneliness that had plagued him for so long? Or was it simply that she knew him better than any other woman ever had, and he needed to control that part of himself that had been lost to her? Whatever the reason, his desire for her doubled each day. Oh my sweet girl, why can't we just find a way to bridge this chasm of lies between us? He was so lost in his thoughts that he failed to notice that silence had fallen around the room as Voldemort waited for his reply.  
  
"Lucius," Voldemort inquired again softly. All eyes turned to the dais to see what the Master would do to his inattentive counselor.  
  
Voldemort was aware, as always, of his audience, and said firmly, but still not loudly, "Lucius."  
  
"Yes my Lord, how may I be of service?" he replied waking from his dream.  
  
Voldemort glared at him in silence. His face, though still scarred from the battles of a harsh life and terrible to behold, grew younger and more pleasing each day as his juvenescence progressed. He then offered Lucius his hand and said, "Come and walk with me."  
  
They left the main hall and took one of the tunnels leading to the surface. Voldemort walked at his usual leisurely pace and Lucius did the same; their footsteps echoing through the long tunnel.  
  
"Lucius, tell me what is on your mind. Why do you brood so?"  
  
"I am troubled by the telepath."  
  
"Yes, I suspected that she was the cause of your worries. Tell me, what has happened."  
  
"I went to her last night and I tried to convince her to join us. I tried to explain Slytherin's ideas to her, but she would not hear me. When that failed I confronted her with the scandal from her schooldays as you instructed me to, and. . . ."  
  
"And what, Lucius?"  
  
Lucius turned away from his master, "She challenged me with . . . scenes from the Guthulu slaying, and forced me to relive the moment."  
  
"How does she know of such things?" Voldemort asked with alarm  
  
"She seems to have used her telepathy to acquire some of my thoughts and memories."  
  
Voldemort stopped a stared long at his counselor, his now sharp, blue eyes burrowing into him and assessing his loyalty. "Why did you not tell me of this earlier?"  
  
"Because I wasn't sure of the extent of her acquisition. Her letter mentioned only her knowledge of my service to you. I reported that immediately."  
  
"Yes . . . yes you did," Voldemort replied as he resumed walking. "This telepath is troublesome. I fear that she has become a threat to us and must die. Tragic perhaps, but necessary."  
  
"Please, Master, no!" Lucius said desperately, grabbing at Voldemort's shoulder. "Telepathy is too rare a gift to simply destroy her. I will be able to convince her to join us. I know I will be able to. Please let me try once more."  
  
Voldemort pursed his lips and shook his head from side to side. "My old friend, I think you are making a big mistake. Have you forgotten that she is an auror? Or has she blinded you to. . . "  
  
"She is a former auror and does not wish to be enemies. . . "  
  
"There is no such thing as a former auror!" Voldemort shrieked, his cries echoing off the earthen walls. "They never give up hunting us! Never!"  
  
"You are correct as ever, Master," Lucius said as he bowed his head. "But if an . . . auror could be turned and perhaps incorporated, think of our strategic advantage: we could find out what they know about us, what they suspect, and the gaps in their information."  
  
Voldemort nodded to acknowledge the wisdom of Lucius' argument.  
  
As they reached the surface, Lucius looked up at the white sickle moon slicing the sky of blazing stars, and let his longing for Miranda wash over him, and allowed his Master to feel its intensity.  
  
"Ahh, Lucius it's not an ordinary desire, no not ordinary at all. I can see why it hampers your concentration". Then Voldemort smiled, "Since you are special to me, tell me how you would like things to be."  
  
"I want her here with me, with us all the time," Lucius said quickly. "And with your leave, I would have her as my consort."  
  
"Only if she becomes as one with us. I do not trust her, and must find a way to do so."  
  
"Let me work with her some more. She will come to see things our way. I know she will."  
  
"So be it. I will give you a few days more to resolve the matter. If you fail. I will have Snape deliver her, and we will give her one final chance. Regardless of the outcome, I want my counselor's full attention from now on. It won't do to have you daydreaming in front of the court."  
  
"Thank you my lord. Your generosity knows no bounds."  
  
As they returned to the main hall, Voldemort asked, "And what of her former lover?"  
  
"He is a house master at Durmstrang, my lord."  
  
"And his allegiance is to which side?"  
  
"Unclear at present. I hope to have the answer for you in a few days."  
  
"Good and what of her child?"  
  
"We have not found him yet, but the search continues." Lucius paused and said, "He may be of little use to us. Before she died, the nurse told us that it was an abnormal birth. 'Horrible' is the word she used."  
  
"Pity. He would have been valuable to us."  
  
They sat back down as the small court bustled around them. Lucius smiled and sipped his wine but privately worried about what he had just done. Protecting Miranda - even if only a little bit - seemed the right thing to do. But at the same time, it drove a wedge between him and Voldemort. He wanted to do his Master's bidding but he wanted to convince her, not coerce her to help them. She was so strong willed that he doubted whether she could be forced to comply anyway. Violence against such a woman would only breed deception, not loyalty. He had to try harder next time to get her to listen to his hopes for the future, for in her he saw the possibility of a new beginning for himself and for his world.  
  
As Lucius mused over Miranda, Voldemort presided over his small court. At long tables arrayed to their left and right sat a few members of Voldemort's inner circle. Of their Ministry infiltrators, only Crabbe had the nerve to attend on a semi-regular basis. Down the left side of the hall, his field detailees sat around low round or octagonal wood tables. The men sat on cushions or pillows, eating and drinking well into the night. Voldemort smiled as he thought that it wouldn't be long before the telepath would be theirs and he and his counselor could return to the business of planning their war.  
  
He sat quietly amongst them until he felt the sun rising in the world above them. He nodded to Lucius and walked off to get a few hours of sleep. "I am going to rest, and do not wish to be disturbed," he rasped to the guard, who followed him, at a respectful distance, to his room.  
  
By his bed - carved in the same sinuous style as his chair - he removed his formal robes and lay his tired body down. He rubbed his eyes and looked over to the side table and saw a cup filled halfway with white liquid. Nagini had been a good girl and left him some of her milk to assist in his healing. He rose up on his elbow and drank the viscous venom in a few glups and then lay back down.  
  
Just as he was beginning to drift off a large brown, hooded viper slid up onto the bed, and hissed loudly at him.  
  
"Oh there you are, Nagini!" he said looking up at her. "I was wondering where you had gotten to, my dear. Come and lay quietly by my side while I sleep."

* * *

Harry and Hermione were in the library preparing for their morning classes. Well, Harry was preparing. Hermione who had completed her assignment the night before, sat with her hands folded and asked, "So what's your favorite class so far?"  
  
"Defense. Definitely, Defense."  
  
"Yeah me too. But Design isn't as bad as I thought it would be. I'm probably going to stick with it for the rest of the term."  
  
"Design. Isn't that with Professor 'He's so Dreamy' Miller?" Harry teased  
  
"Yeah," Hermione giggled. "But he's really interesting. The first lecture was all about the nature of materials. He said that material science was crucial to the understanding of good design. If you don't understand materials, the structure you're building won't last and will have to be recast again and again. He also said that . . ."  
  
"There you are!" Ron said too loudly.  
  
"Shhh," Hermione cautioned. "We waited for you, and Harry even tried to wake you, but you must have thought it was Saturday or something."  
  
Ron grimaced at her and sat down as he said, "You'll never believe what I found out about last night. I had my detention with Snape last night - breaking codes - right?"  
  
"Codes - what sort of codes?" Hermione asked  
  
"I'll tell you about it later - just listen to this part first. As I'm walking in, I hear Snape telling this stranger that there's a security conference here this Saturday. In the Defense classroom at noon."  
  
"We have to go," Harry said as he glanced at Hermione.  
  
"Harry, don't. You'll get in really big trouble if you're caught."  
  
"Don't worry, we can use the invisibility cloak."  
  
"Harry, don't you remember, Moody could see through them," she cautioned. "What if they all can?"  
  
"Oh! I know," Ron began. "What about making some more of that concealment potion that Snape showed us, and then using the cloak?"  
  
"Good idea. We'll have to get the ingredients in a hurry to have it ready by Saturday. No time to go to Hogsmeade. Ron, tonight when you go for your detention, leave the door open and Hermione and I will sneak in to his potion stores."  
  
"Harry, I don't know about this . . ." Hermione started.  
  
"Come on, Hermione. Don't you want to know what the aurors are up to?"  
  
"Oh alright," she said with a frown. "Now go ahead and tell us about these codes."  
  
"Totally cool! For detention he has asked me to help him break this really complex code that his dad wrote."  
  
"His dad?" Harry asked with a worried look on his face.  
  
"Yeah, he said they were papers that would enable him to carry on in his father's footsteps."  
  
Harry frowned and trembled. Sensing his alarm, Hermione asked, "What is it?"  
  
"I got a really bad feeling when you mentioned Snape's father."  
  
"Is there a reason?"  
  
"I don't know . . . but I'm going to find out," said Harry getting up and walking over to the reference section.  
  
He paged quickly through Wizards and Witches of the UK until he got to "S": Simmons, Smithson, Snape.  
  
_Snape: Salazar, b 1946; m. Madeline (Greenstone; b 1950); 1 d. Samantha b 1992.  
_  
He tapped the page with his wand and nothing happened. There were no further entries.  
  
"That's weird, there's no mention of any other members of the family."  
  
"And most purebloods live for their ancestors," Ron said with disgust. "The kids can recite their family trees before their numbers and letters."  
  
"And no mention of Professor Snape either, and we know he exists," Hermione reminded them.  
  
"There's got to be another way to . . ." Harry began.  
  
"Let me," Hermione offered. "The librarians all know me really well."  
  
When the boys had gone back to the table, she lingered by the book for a while and made a show of not being able to find what she was looking for. Then she walked over the reference librarian, and asked in her most exacting voice, "Excuse me Miss Cross, I was wondering if you could . . ."  
  
"Oh hello Miss Granger. How are you, dear?"  
  
"A bit confused. I am doing some research for my Defense against the Dark Arts class and I can't find someone's listing in WWUK. Professor Traveller wouldn't have asked me to find out more about him if he never existed. Is it possible for someone to have been deleted from the Registry?"  
  
Miss Cross whispered, "Yes dear, but only at the request of the head of household. It happens only rarely, and usually the request comes from a family trying to make a clean break from its dark past."  
  
"That makes perfect sense!" Hermione whispered excitedly. "Where else can I find biographical information on dark wizards? I only need a few details right now."  
  
Miss Cross glanced around the room and said, "That material is restricted, and usually you need special permission, but I suppose - because it's you asking - that I could just let you have a quick glance. Go wait at that table over there, and I'll find the volume you need. What period are you looking for?"  
  
"Modern. A follower of You Know Who."  
  
Hermione had barely fetched quill and parchment before Miss Cross returned, declaring that she had found the volume on medicinal plants that had been requested. Hermione undid the metal clasp on the volume, and as she read, she heard the sound of her own heart pound against her chest. She copied every word faithfully and returned the book to Miss Cross with many thanks.  
  
"You are never going to believe this," she said returning to the table, motioning for Ron and Harry to draw closer. "Sebastian Snape was Voldemort's counselor - that's the number two position in the inner circle. It said that he was considered by some to be one of the most powerful dark wizards in history. He was considered so dangerous that he was executed right after his trial - he never even made it to Azkaban."  
  
Harry said quietly, "Ron, you said that the papers were for him to follow in his father's footsteps didn't you?"  
  
"That . . . that's what he told me," Ron answered fearfully.  
  
"Wait a moment!" Hermione said a bit too loudly and drew stares from some of the other students. "Let's not jump to conclusions, alright? Remember what Professor Traveller said, the most obvious answer is rarely the correct one," she continued in a whisper. "The book also said that Severus Snape was a deatheater and member of the inner circle, but that he was exonerated in the trials. One of the wizards that spoke in his favor was Albus Dumbledore. It didn't give details, but it basically said that Dumbledore's testimony in closed proceedings - that means secret - got Snape off the hook."  
  
"Maybe Snape has done another turnabout?" Ron suggested  
  
"I doubt it," Hermione said. "Here's what we know: We know that his father was a powerful dark wizard, and that these are his papers. Those are facts. They are encrypted, which . . . "  
  
"Implies that they contain secret information," Ron continued.  
  
"That Voldemort wanted protected," Harry said. "Probably spells, and practices. . ."  
  
"That's exactly what Snape said they were!"  
  
"How many papers did he have Ron?" Hermione asked.  
  
"He just gave me a stack, but he said he had crates of them."  
  
Harry and Hermione shared a glance and then she declared, "We've got to find out where those crates are. Ron, you'll have to ask him."

* * *

Later that afternoon, Hobby trotted across the gleaming wood and carpeted floor to Madeline and quietly said, "Lucius Malfoy is calling, Madame."  
  
"Really? Please show him in Hobby," Madeline said putting her book aside.  
  
Lucius strode in with an admiring smile for her.  
  
"Lucius, what a pleasant surprise!" she lied.  
  
He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and said, "I'm actually coming to call on Salazar my dear, is he at home to visitors?"  
  
She frowned, "He's actually quite ill. Came down with something a couple of nights ago. He's hiding out in his study. Doesn't want me to come near him."  
  
"Then he's a fool," said Lucius grinning.  
  
She gave him a flustered smile in return and said, "Let me see if he's available. Please have a seat."  
  
Lucius followed her with his eyes as she knocked on the study door and entered, shutting the door behind her. There was a muffled shout and she returned, smoothing her hair. "He said he can see you, but I warn you he's not himself. I'm going to send for a doctor. This has gone on long enough."  
  
Lucius looked seriously at her and put both of his hands on her upper arms, caressing the fresh bruises that just peeked below her sleeves. "I promised you a long time ago that I would never . . ." he began softly.  
  
"It's not what you think!" she said stepping away. "He had a nightmare a couple of nights ago and it was an accident! I swear it was!"  
  
"It better have been," he said through his tightly clenched teeth. "If he ever hurts you - I'll kill him." He wheeled around and walked directly into the study with only a short knock.  
  
The study was lit only by a low fire, and Salazar shivered in his chair under several blankets. His face looked pale and gaunt, and without his glasses he looked remarkably like his father.  
  
"Salazar, you really ought to see a doctor. You look really awful."  
  
"No. It'll pass. Just started yesterday. The worst part is these shooting pains from time to time." And then remembering his manners, he said, "Please sit down. What can I do for you?"  
  
"Well, this was really just a social call, no agenda," Lucius replied politely.  
  
Salazar let out a hearty laugh that ended in a hacking cough. When he recovered, he said, "That would be the day!"  
  
Lucius smiled and said, "Well, there is one thing."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"I met Maddie last Saturday in Flourish and Blotts - I don't know if she told you."  
  
"She did."  
  
"Well, you know how children talk - they say the most outlandish things sometimes."  
  
Salazar nodded.  
  
"It seems that Samantha told Draco that Severus was visiting . . ."  
  
"He did. It's his home too. He can come and go whenever he pleases," Salazar said firmly.  
  
"Of course, of course. But she also said he was here to get some of granddad's things. We were wondering if you could tell us a little bit more about that."  
  
Salazar doubled over in pain and shouted, "None of your damn business, Malfoy! Those are my things! And you'd be well advised to keep your toady hands off - if you know what's good for you!"  
  
Lucius stared back in outrage over his outburst, and purred threateningly, "Really Salazar? The Master thinks that it might be His business. Could He be wrong?"  
  
"No, never."  
  
"Good. He sent me here to find out what property of Sebastian's might have been given to Severus."  
  
"Just old books and papers, they were his as specified in the will."  
  
"What sort of old papers?"  
  
"I don't know. They were all encoded," he lied. "Severus was going to try to break the code. That's all I know."  
  
Malfoy raised his brows in surprise and ran his hand through his loosely falling hair. "This is not good, Salazar. Not good at all. In addition to being counselor, your father also kept detailed records of our practices in the East. I would have expected you to know this, and not to have allowed them to be taken back to Hogwarts and not into the clutches of Albus Dumbledore!"  
  
"First of all, I kept copies of every single scrap of paper. And second of all, I gave them to Severus - not Dumbledore!" Salazar countered. "Sebastian's papers will be safe with him. He associates with Dumbledore, surely, but only to report on his plans to the Master."  
  
"I hope you're right Salazar. But as you may remember, he failed to answer the Master's last summons, and a cloud of suspicion hangs over his head."  
  
Salazar doubled over in pain again. "He's innocent. . . he must be!" And then whispering to himself, "oh . . . treachery in my own house. . ."  
  
Lucius narrowed his eyes and took a long look at Salazar and decided on a change of strategy. "We're not sure . . . Salazar. But the Master is watching him carefully." "Good, let me know if you find any evidence against him . . .I am in no condition to move about yet."  
  
"Consider it done. Now, tell me about those copies. The Master will be most interested in those."  
  
Salazar tried, but couldn't rise from his chair and panted, "They're mine. And I'll use them to secure my family's place. Not one finger on any one of us - Severus included - or this house - or He'll never lay eyes on them again - am I clear?"  
  
"Crystal," Lucius said smiling. Then rising from his chair to leave he continued, "Oh, by the way, the Master has appointed me counselor. Severus said that he would not contest me, and I didn't think that you would either. Good seeing you again and take care. I think Maddie's called a doctor."  
  
As he left the room, the sound of Salazar's scream followed him out. Was that agony, or anger? It's so difficult to tell sometimes.  
  
Madeline heard her husband scream and ran over to the study as Lucius emerged. "What's going on? Is he alright?"  
  
"You were right, Madeline. He's not himself. And If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was Sebastian."  
  
Madeline covered her mouth and started to cry.  
  
"Maddie, Maddie . . . I was just kidding!"  
  
"Oh Lucius. . .I'm so frightened!" she said still crying.  
  
"There, there. . .why should you be so scared?" he asked patting her politely on the shoulders.  
  
She wiped her eyes and said, "That's what his nightmare was about the other night. He said that Sebastian had come to him and had asked to share his body. When Salazar refused his request, he tried to take him over forcibly."  
  
Lucius looked seriously at her and said, "Now Maddie, it's probably just a flu or something. But, there is a chance . . ."  
  
"You don't think?"  
  
He looked anxiously around the room, and said, "I want you to be very careful. You and Sam stay away from him for a little while. Just leave him alone. Have the elves see to him. If he doesn't want to see the Doctor, don't make an issue of it, alright?"  
  
She nodded and started to cry again.  
  
"And if you need me, any time of the day or night, I'll be there for you. Just send someone over, or come yourself if you have to."  
  
She wrapped her arms around him and buried her head in his chest.  
  
"Everything will work itself out. Don't worry so." And then he ran his finger lightly down her upturned nose - an old gesture of affection, and took his leave. She looked after him until he vanished, and wondered why he had not kissed her.

* * *

"Professor Snape?" Ron asked as he knocked on his office door.  
  
"Yes Mr. Weasley, please come in, we've got a lot of work ahead of us tonight.  
  
Ron took his place at the table, and hoped that no one would close the classroom door he had left ajar. "Are these your father's crates?"  
  
"Yes Mr. Weasley."  
  
"May I have a look?" Ron asked looking around at the stacks of books and papers on the table.  
  
"Yes. I brought them here at your request, remember? The one on the left holds the rest of the papers. I've been cataloging them to the best of my ability. The one on the right has clothes, shoes and personal effects of little interest."  
  
Ron regarded the stacks of encoded papers in the trunk. "Crimeny! There's thousands of pages here! And bound volumes as well! This could take a lifetime to decipher!  
  
"We only have two weeks," Snape replied not looking up from his work.  
  
Ron reached down and grabbed the bound volume nearest to him and ran his hands over the fine leather binding. Page after page of enciphered information. "Umm. . . Professor, I think you'd better have a look at this." Half the book was gone! Pages torn asunder, in apparent violence judging by the jagged edge of the remaining parchment.  
  
Snape held the book to his chest, and started to breathe deeply as images from that night flooded his mind: Dark night, rain. Sebastian furiously driving the horses towards the next portal. He was trying to evade capture and so was moving in criss-cross pathways instead of straight towards the manor. Three hooded figures ahead - he would have to fight. Blinding flashes of light! One down, then two. He hit the third and knocked him backwards, but he got up again, and fought back - pushing towards Sebastian, and draining him as he did. Sebastian lay weak and paralyzed as he watched the tall auror paw through his trunks, ripping his books and throwing his papers onto the ground. "No! Master help me!" he cried. And even from miles away, he did. Sebastian rose to his feet and hurled a killing blow at the auror who crumpled to the ground. As quickly as he could he gathered most of his papers and sped directly home and to temporary safety.  
  
Snape sat in silence as the images faded. "My father was almost captured as he moved some of these papers westward. The auror ripped this book before he fell."  
  
"The auror, sir?" Ron asked nervously.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Weasley, the auror," said Snape finally opening his eyes. "If it is not already known to you, my father was a loyal follower of Voldemort. In fact, Sebastian was his counselor, and closest friend."  
  
"That's terrible," Ron blurted out.  
  
Snape smiled at his awkward answer and then said, "Worse yet, Mr. Weasley, is that some of my father's writings have been loose in the world for years. He appealed for Voldemort's assistance and received it, so the event occurred at some time before his fall. Let us concentrate on that volume for tonight, we need to know what's missing."  
  
"Oh, I feel terrible about doing this! They're very expensive, you know. But we need them for the concealment potion." Hermione whispered as she unscrewed the jar containing the powdered ruby.  
  
"You'll feel really terrible if Snape hears you and we're caught," Harry whispered back.  
  
She scooped some of the pinkish-gray powder into a container she had brought with her. "There, that should be more than sufficient. Let's get out of here."  
  
They crept out of the storeroom and closed the door behind them when Hermione gasped and pointed, "Harry look!"  
  
Harry turned to see a brilliant blue spot appear on the far side of the classroom. Instinctively he forced her down onto the floor where they watched from behind the desks. Invisibility cloak or not, he didn't want to take any chances.  
  
The blue spot swirled as it grew into a large arched doorway. The center cleared and they could see a brick-lined tunnel and heard footsteps approaching. Hermione's nails dug into Harry's arm as Lucius jumped through the Pass and into the classroom. He looked around the room and strode towards the light shining in Snape's office, marking his steps not with his usual cane, but with a tall staff.  
  
Two sharp knocks with his staff on the door preceded Lucius' entry into the office. "Well, well, what have we here?" Lucius began with a cruel edge to his voice. "A Weasley going though my predecessor's things. Severus, please explain why he is here and what he is doing."  
  
"Mr. Weasley is helping me to break Sebastian's code. He is a fine cryptanalyst."  
  
"And son of a Ministry employee," Malfoy answered harshly.  
  
"Who has vowed to keep his mouth shut for fear of my retribution."  
  
"And mine," said Lucius banging his staff of the stone floor and glowering at Ron.  
  
"Lucius, is that my father's staff?"  
  
"It was your father's, now it is mine. I use it when I am on official business."  
  
"May I?" asked Severus reaching his hand towards it.  
  
Ron saw a change come over Snape's face as his eyes and fingers traced the surface of the wooden staff. Then he stood quite straight and still and held the staff in front of him with both hands. The office darkened and Snape and the staff started to glow brightly. And then abruptly as his explorations of the staff began, Snape let his left hand fall to his side and the lights in the room returned. He kissed the staff and smiled at Lucius as he said, "Use it well, my old friend." And then he sank to one knee and bowed his head before Malfoy.  
  
Lucius lifted Severus and wondered, "I'll never comprehend how you could have turned away from all that power, you know."  
  
"Because I do not wish to wear the mantle of responsibility that comes with it."  
  
Lucius shook his head in agreement. "There are two things of import that I came to discuss with you. But first," he said turning to Ron, "Tell me why he is going through Sebastian's clothes when he should be deciphering his words instead."  
  
"He thought that there may be clues in the clothes," Snape said motioning Ron away from the trunk.  
  
"Rubbish!" Malfoy said sharply, grabbing Sebastian's belt and cracking it like a whip before hurling it into the corner. "Get to work! You're working for me now as well. And I am not so gentle a Master as my friend here."  
  
Ron shook and moved cautiously over to the table and began counting letters.  
  
"He is not to see the contents of the papers, Severus."  
  
"Of course. I intended to have him only help me find the key."  
  
Malfoy nodded and motioned for Severus to follow him into the classroom.  
  
Harry and Hermione scuttled silently into the shadows as Malfoy passed by. They watched as Snape and Malfoy made their way over to the Pass and followed to hear their conversation.  
  
"First off, does Dumbledore know about this project?"  
  
"Not to my knowledge," Snape calmly lied.  
  
Lucius thought a moment, before answering, "I'm going to trust you on this one, Severus, because I need your support in coming days. I anticipate that my appointment as counselor will be challenged and I need your help."  
  
"But, who could, possibly? Not Salazar, he couldn't have?"  
  
"No, but his father could."  
  
"What are you saying?"  
  
"Sebastian has come back."  
  
Severus lost his balance and grabbed at Malfoy, "How can it be? He's been dead for years! He was executed in front of witnesses!"  
  
"Remember, this is your father we're talking about. I don't know how he managed it. But he's back. He has taken over Salazar's body and his life."  
  
Snape placed a shaking hand on his forehead, "And Salazar?"  
  
"He's dead, or perhaps dying, I don't know which. I'm sorry."  
  
Snape asked in a whisper, "Who knows about this?"  
  
"You, me, Madeline . . . and the Master."  
  
"What does He say?"  
  
"He says that he will support me. That he needs a different counselor for different times, but I'm lining up my allies all the same."  
  
"Wise of you," Severus laughed.  
  
Malfoy smiled back and asked, "So, are you with me?"  
  
"Yes, of course. But it's a delicate situation, and I will have to be very careful how I play it. My father is sure to expect my backing as well."  
  
"Yes, of course."  
  
"When do you expect Sebastian to return east?"  
  
"A week, maybe two, difficult to say. He could hardly move this morning. But in his first life he was very strong, and will probably recover more quickly than anyone expects him to."  
  
"What about Madeline and Samantha?"  
  
"I have ten observers posted around the manor. Sorry I didn't ask your permission first, but we wanted to keep an eye on things. And I've told Madeline to stay away from him, and keep Sam away as well. I'll let you know if there's any change."  
  
Lucius put a hand on his shoulder as Snape dropped down into a nearby chair. Sebastian surely knew about the conversation he had with Salazar only a few days ago. If his father doubted his loyalty to Voldemort, he might have only a few days left to live. On the other hand, it was possible that Sebastian realized that he was speaking to his brother, and would spin the web of his argument to suit his listener. Oh, how this complicated matters!  
  
Eventually, Lucius interrupted his thoughts when he said, "The second issue at hand is that the Master has asked you to start planning how you will deliver Professor Traveller. He has given me one more chance to convince her to join us. If I fail, you will be asked to bring her forth."  
  
"There's a security conference next Saturday," Snape began. "Her attendance will be expected there, I cannot take her before then. And then there's a matter of disabling her enough to transport her . . ."  
  
"Are you refusing to do this?" Malfoy asked angrily  
  
"No, not at all," Snape laughed as he rose to his feet once again. "Just thinking aloud. I do advise to wait until after next Saturday though. Her father will be presiding over the conference."  
  
"Damn him! Doesn't he ever die?" Lucius spat bitterly. "No one man has ever been such a hindrance to our plans - except perhaps for Dumbledore. Now that I'm counselor, I really ought to make his funeral a priority. It would be a valuable public service."  
  
"I couldn't agree more," Snape said as he clapped Lucius on the back. "Tell the Master that if need be, he can count on me to bring her to him. I will start planning the operation tonight."  
  
"That's the old Severus talking now," Lucius smiled as he jumped up into the Pass. "I'm headed back east now and look forward to your return - we all do. Oh and keep me posted on your progress with the codes. We must know as soon as the key is discovered."

* * *

Harry and Hermione walked invisibly back towards Gryffindor until they felt it safe enough to pull the cloak off. They went through the guardian portrait into the deserted common room, and sat next to each other on the couch. They were exhausted, and sat there for several minutes in silence, stunned by what they had just seen. They startled only when they heard the portrait swing open. Seconds later Ron came barging into the room.  
  
"You're never going to believe what I found?" Ron cried holding up the belt that Malfoy had cracked at him.  
  
"A belt?" Harry offered, "Looks a little big for you Ron."  
  
"No! This is the key to all of those coded papers," Ron answered kneeling down close to show them the reverse side of the belt. A row of tiny letters covered the length of the belt. "It's a skytale! Straight out of the history books!"  
  
"A sky- what?" asked Hermione.  
  
"A sky-tal-ee," Ron said slowly, enunciating each syllable. "Invented by the muggle, Lysander of Sparta more than two thousand years ago.  
  
"You said it was a key, how does it work?" Harry inquired.  
  
"It has to be wrapped around a stick of some sort at just the right angle, and then somewhere in this jumble of letters a clear word or set of words will emerge. Those words are the key to the code and can be used to decipher all of those documents."  
  
"Sounds too simple," Hermione offered.  
  
"Not simple . . . elegant and perfect. Providing the skytale is kept secret, of course. Easy if the cryptanalyst is wearing his key at all times," said Ron fingering the belt buckle.  
  
"Now, you said it had to be wrapped around some sort of stick," Hermione continued sleepily.  
  
"Yeah, a stick, perhaps a wand."  
  
"A wand would be too short for that," Harry said.  
  
"I know!" shouted Ron. "It's that bloody staff! The one that Malfoy was banging around and threatening me with. He said it belonged to his predecessor. It's got to be!"  
  
"We've got to get our hands on that staff then," Harry began.  
  
"No way!" Ron cried. "There's no way I'm going to be part of that, Harry Potter. Have you forgotten he's already tried to kill you and my sister?"  
  
"Well we don't really need the staff itself, Ron," Hermione added. "All we really need is something the same size to wrap the skytale around, right?"  
  
"Yeah, you're right, that should work," Harry said. So, where are we going to get something like that staff?"  
  
Hermione yawned and said, "Meet me in the armor collection tomorrow, after your afternoon classes. I'm going up, I just can't keep my eyes open anymore"  
  
"Hermione, wait," Harry said, "Shouldn't we tell Ron that he was right?"  
  
"I was right? What was I right about?" Ron asked brightly.  
  
She stopped on the steps and turned back towards the boys as she gravely said, "You were right about Snape, Ron. He has gone back to Voldemort. Malfoy gave him an order to . . . to kidnap Professor Traveller. And he agreed to do it." 


	9. Breaking the Code

**A Traveller's Tale  
  
by Greta Jameson  
  
9. Breaking the Code**

****   
  
The Great Hall bustled with students having their breakfasts and conversing about the day ahead with their friends. Harry and Ron dug into huge plates of sausage and mash while Hermione nibbled her toast and read passages to them from Methods of Magical Movement. "And here on page 153, it describes something called Passes, it says that:  
  
Wizards and witches can place miniscule cracks in the world that can be opened to form hidden tunnels from one place to the next. Just as easily, these passages can be closed, leaving only a tiny knot in space. If these channels are not removed, they can be reopened at any time, if one knows where they are or how to look for them.  
  
"That might be how Mr. Malfoy entered Snape's classroom," she continued. "It's not possible to disapparate on school grounds, so he must have gotten around some other way."  
  
Harry was reading over her shoulder and said, "And down here it says that 'the portals commonly used to get from place to place are nothing more than standardized and well maintained passes.' Sounds reasonable, have you found any other possibilities?"  
  
"None that seem as likely as Passes."  
  
"So how do they work?"  
  
"Over here on page 156 it says that each Pass is controlled by a word - usually determined by its builder." "Does it say anything else about how to figure out the keyword?" Harry asked Hermione thumbed through the index and said, "No, not in this book."  
  
"Could be nearly any word then. How will we find the right one?" "I could ask Professor Miller if he knows anything about Passes. I have to pick a subject for our class project anyway, so it might as well be something interesting, right?" "Good idea, then we can see where they all lead."  
  
"Harry, we already know where they lead . . ."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Didn't you hear what Malfoy said? He said he was 'going back east'. You must know what he meant by east, right?"  
  
Harry sat back on the bench and closed his eyes. Passes from Hogwarts to Voldemort's lair - used by one of the school's Governors - it made him weak just to think about it. But wait! If they could walk right into the school at any time, why had they not killed him yet?  
  
He didn't have long to consider the possibilities because a parliament of owls raced into the Great Hall bearing the morning post. Hermione got a letter and some muggle sweets from her parents, Ron got a letter from his brother Bill . . . and Harry, of course, received nothing at all. After the owls departed a single large falcon entered the Hall and descended sharply towards the faculty table. It landed right in front of Professor Traveller, kicked itself free of its parchment, rolled it politely towards her and immediately lit to the air and out of the Hall. Draco instantly recognized it as one of the birds his father used to deliver important messages, and wondered what he could be writing to Professor Traveller about.

* * *

Miranda paced the length of Dumbledore's office, and paused from time to time to look out the windows as she waited. The portraits on the wall of past Headmasters and Headmistresses tried in their own ways to soothe her troubled mind by telling her to, "Please sit down or you'll wear a hole in the carpet!" or "Stop frowning so dear - you'll get wrinkles on that pretty face of yours!" She was grateful for the silence that ensued when Albus and Snape finally arrived, and handed the long scroll of parchment to them:_My Dear Miranda:  
  
Once again, I am ashamed for how poorly I have treated you. I've never met a woman who has challenged me like you have. As the days have passed, I have come to see you not as an adversary, but as a friend or lover, and this has caused a great deal of discord with my work. I was sent to persuade you to join us - and that is what I still wish for you to do. But now, I wish that you will be with us because you choose me as well as our world view.  
  
The blood of the fallen lies thick on both sides of the conflict. As the child of aurors you are well aware of our ferocity when challenged. However, you may not know of the great toll that your own actions and the actions of those of your brethren have taken on us. Over the years I have lost many friends and loved ones to the swords and wands of the aurors. With so many senseless deaths, I want an end to the carnage as much as you do. I fear, however, that it will continue and can already hear the drums steady beat as we step inexorably towards another war.  
  
In the east, we live as a community of magical beings. Once incorporated we can use gifts that we were born with, and also those of our brothers and sisters - and we are all as one in the Master. There is nothing in our philosophy or our way of life that precludes co-existence with the larger world. The conflict began because the Ministry and its liaison became threatened by Voldemort's rapid spread of Slytherin's ideas. And now we fight against each other to avenge our losses and because it is all that most of us can ever remember doing.  
  
When we first dined together you spoke to me about transcending boundaries with your telepathy. This is exactly what we wish to do in our quest for magical unity. My dear Miranda, it is a truly beautiful experience when we cast off the limits imposed by state and self and flow gloriously into one another. This is the experience I wish to share with you.  
  
I will be at the school on Friday to collect my son. Please let me see you then.  
  
Yours,  
  
Lucius  
_  
As they read, she looked out over the school grounds and wondered whether Lucius was sincere, or whether this was just a new tactic he was using to acquire telepathy for Voldemort's community.  
  
If he was sincere, what was she going do about it? Running off with the first man who asked, she knew was an ill-advised course of action. Running off with Voldemort's counselor was unthinkable. And yet . . .  
  
"Well congratulations my dear!" Albus began exuberantly. "It seems as if you have had some influence over Lucius Malfoy after all!"  
  
"I wouldn't believe a word of that letter if I were you," Snape cautioned. This cloy sentimentality of his is nothing but a ruse to gain her trust."  
  
Miranda quickly looked away, stung by the venom of his words.  
  
"You don't think he is sincere, do you?" Snape worried as he walked over to her.  
  
"I'm not sure what I think, anymore. There is the ring of truth in his words, certainly, but I just don't know where his sincerity ends and . . ."  
  
"You mean you want to . . ." he asked incredulously.  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
He looked fdisbelievingly rom Miranda to Albus and said sharply, "She should not be allowed to see him again. She has lost her objectivity and is no longer able to do her job!" Then he turned to Miranda and slowly spat, "How could you?"  
  
"How could I?" she asked angrily. "Have you forgotten what this life is like and how alone we always are? Whether we succeed or fail to destroy our enemies, we are always alone. Regimes rise and fall but we who make it all happen stand quietly in the shadows while our masters rejoice. I didn't choose this lonely life . . . I was born into it, and I'm tired of it! Lucius says he's falling in love with me and yes, if he is sincere, I want to be with him."  
  
He shook his head, unable to believe her words and yelled, "He has killed in Voldemort's name!"  
  
"So have you. . ." she roared back.  
  
"Yes . . . I did," he reeled. "But the difference between Lucius and me is that he enjoyed his job!"  
  
"That was a long time ago. I have seen at least some of his mind recently and . . ."  
  
"Intentions can be veiled and telepaths deceived!"  
  
"And men can get mired in a painful past, and refuse to see that the world around them has changed!"  
  
He stood for a moment, stunned by her words but having heard the truth in them. "I don't know why we're even wasting time arguing about this," he offered quietly. "What Lucius Malfoy wants is irrelevant. Voldemort's opinion is the only one that really matters."  
  
"That's not how it's supposed to be, Severus!"  
  
"Miranda . . . I know that better perhaps than anyone left alive," he whispered. And that's why I continue to fight against Voldemort and the monster that he has become."  
  
"Well then, try for just a moment to believe," she said coming very close, "that Lucius may have come to agree with you. And that together, perhaps, you and I can persuade him to help us."  
  
Albus, who had been watching them argue, stepped in and said, "So it's settled then. Miranda will meet with Lucius on Friday and speak of her love for him but her reluctance to help their war effort. Then, Severus, when ordered to do so, you will deliver her - quite against her will - to Voldemort. Are we all agreed?"

* * *

"Should've brought a lantern, its already getting dark in here," Ron said glancing at the small windows that provided the armor collection's only light.  
  
"This should help a bit," said Harry causing the end of his wand to light up, bathing the armor and weapons nearby in brilliant light.  
  
"She's late, that's weird. She's never late."  
  
"I am not late, Ron Weasley," Hermione said from just a few feet away.  
  
"How did you?"  
  
"Just practicing my stalking, that's all," she said pointing down to the slippers on her feet.  
  
"Really going all out with this aurorcraft aren't you?"  
  
"Yeah. So, any good matches for the staff yet?"  
  
"No, umm," said Ron looking around and pretending that he had already been hard at work. He walked over to a pike held by one of the armored figures, examined it, and then shook his head and moved on. Then he took a look at the handle of one of the flails, "No wider 'round still."  
  
"How 'bout some more light?" she inquired raising her arms.  
  
"Sure, that'd be. . . "  
  
"Lumos Internis!" she said loudly as each suit of armor glowed with a hidden light from within.  
  
"She still scares me sometimes, you know, Harry."  
  
Harry stopped short. "Ron, how big around did you say that staff was?"  
  
"I don't know, maybe four or five inches."  
  
"Then how 'bout this?" he asked walking over to one of the structural supports for the display of equine armor.  
  
"Yeah, maybe," Ron said undoing his belt as he approached. He unraveled the skytale to its full length and started wrapping it around the iron rod. "Now I really need some light, and bring it close up. These letters are really tiny.  
  
HFMKOIOEOUJHRHEBNDMKIBLAPOUINVIWSQUIEJFSDP  
  
Hermione lit her wand and placed it near the skytale. "Hey! Look at this!" he shouted, his voice echoing off of the armor. When the belt was wrapped around the rod, a single word emerged from the jumble of letters:  
  
MOEBIUS  
  
"Cool! But is Moe-bi-us a word?" he continued.  
  
"Wait!" Hermione cried! "Its not a word, its someone's name! There was a muggle mathematician named Moebius! He invented the muggle world's first one-sided surface more than 150 years ago."  
  
"Almost a thousand years after we did," Ron remarked.  
  
"Do you think that a pureblood dark wizard would use a muggle's name as a keyword?" Asked Harry.  
  
"He used the skytale, and that's a muggle invention. Something a wizard- cryptanalyst would least expect."  
  
"Possibly. But I'll bet there's someone in the magical world with that name as well. After dinner Harry, you and I are going to the library."

* * *

Ron began that evening of detention continuing his frequency count as Snape attempted to solve Sebastian's cipher. Patterns . . . patterns . . . his father had taught him to always begin the least common thing, that which seemed out of place. He mused over the presence of numbers in the enciphered text. He more closely examined each of the numbers on the page in front of him, and after a while he froze: each number separated a pair of duplicate letters! Scanning down the page he found: "o2o" . . . "t5t" . . . "o9o" . . . "s6s" . . . Those numbers were dummy text to separate duplicates!  
  
"What do you make of these numbers, Mr. Weasley?"  
  
"I . . . I hadn't given them any thought, sir."  
  
"Hmm. It seems to me that they are separating pairs of common letters and leads me to believe that we may have a digraph system on our hands."  
  
Ron shrugged and offered, "Yeah, could be."  
  
A loud tapping came at the office window and Snape went to see what it could be. Ron seized the opportunity and grabbed a random bound volume out of the trunk and stuck it beneath his robes in the waistband of his pants.  
  
"False alarm," said Snape coming back. "No letter or visitor, only the wind."  
  
They worked for another fifteen minutes or so, and then Snape said, "You may go, Mr. Weasley. If you could think about those numbers and do some research on digraph systems on your own time, I would appreciate it. The frequency count doesn't seem to be leading us anywhere."  
  
"Yes sir. I'll do my best," Ron said with an awkward smile as he left.

* * *

The clock chimed the second hour past midnight as Sebastian sat in his study sucking on the last of his black-cavendish blend. He tapped out his pipe, slowly walked over to the edge of the window, and drew the curtains aside just enough to look out on the bright moon sinking beneath the trees in the west. He placed his palms together, inhaled deeply and felt his power begin to flow though his limbs - he needed more time. He wasn't strong enough yet. He lightly stroked the skin on his palm with his fingertips, and shivered at the pleasure of his own touch. The simple things - a touch, a pipe, a good meal - so many of these things he had taken for granted when he was alive. How he had missed them!  
  
He opened his mind, and felt the observers around the manor. They would assist him in his flight back to the Master. Beyond them, he felt the hostile presence of the aurors - they must already know. It would not be easy. He would have to fight his way through their line.  
  
He wished that he could count on Severus' help. His son was powerful. But over the years, he lost his taste for the fight. First, he preferred to stick close to the fortress, and then he reported on Dumbledore and his machinations to the Master. Sebastian frowned when he thought of Malfoy's suspicions against Severus. His own son would never have betrayed Voldemort! At least he hoped that he hadn't. He shook his head sadly, looked out over the grounds, thinking that he didn't want to kill both of his sons. 


	10. A Community of Wizards and Witches

**A Traveller's Tale  
  
by Greta Jameson  
  
10: A Community of Wizards and Witches**

****  
  
On Fred and George's advice, Ron had taken great pains to arrange his fifth year schedule so that he had no classes on Friday afternoons. Unlike his brothers, he didn't use this time to make mischief. Instead, he sat down at his desk to tackle Sebastian's manuscript. He leafed through the pages of "Classical Cryptography" until he found the section on digraph systems and read:  
  
_The Playfair, invented by Charles Wheatstone, was the first digraph system using letters to encode messages, and remained in wide use for over fifty years. Playfair differed from the centuries earlier digraph system invented by Giovanni Porta in the use of letters instead of symbols. One characteristic of the Playfair is its use of the letter 'x' to separate two identical plaintext letters prior to encipherment._  
  
He remembered that Snape had said something about numbers separating pairs of letters, so he wondered if Sebastian had used random numbers from 0-9 instead of the letter 'x'. He read on and found that he needed a five- square matrix for the key, so he arranged the word 'MOEBIUS' followed by the remaining letters of the alphabet in a five by five square, like this: M O E B I  
  
U S A C D  
  
F G H K L  
  
N P Q R T  
  
V W X Y Z Then he read the rules used to substitute plaintext for ciphertext:  
  
If both letters are in the same column, the letter below the plaintext is used as the ciphertext; if both letters are in the same row, the letter to the right of the plaintext is used as cipher. Lastly if the two letters are in neither the same column nor the same row, each is exchanged with the letter at the intersection of its own row and the other's column.  
  
He had to read that last sentence several times and work through the example in the text to understand the system. Might as well give it a try. He examined Sebastian's wispy unbroken lines, and separated the first line into pairs of letters: MTSBPUDLBQDQBMPMLMRUBPWSQCZDMP  
  
MT SB PU DL BQ DQ BM PM LM RU BP WS QC ZD MP  
  
Then he tried to break the cipher using the matrix based on the word 'MOEBIUS' and the Playfair rules. The letters 'M' and 'T' were in different rows and different columns so he looked for the plaintext at the intersection of 'M's' row and 'T's" column, and found the plaintext letter 'I'. Then he found the intersection of 'T's' row and 'M's' column in the plaintext letter 'N'. Solving the rest of the ciphertext pairs in a similar manner, the plaintext pairs became:  
  
IN CO NS ID ER AT IO NO FI NC OR PO RA TI ON  
  
His eyes swept the pairs, trying to discern a word. "Let's see, 'tion' here and here," he said as followed the line back. This must be a Playfair digraph! The line read: 'In consideration of incorporation'. But what was incorporation? He would have to decipher more to find out.  
  
He worked for most of the afternoon, pausing every so often to reflect on the decoded text. A bloody goldmine, that's what this manuscript was! 

A few hours later, Harry entered the room, lay down on his bed and glumly asked, "So, any luck?"  
  
"No nothing really," Ron sighed. "Just the secret to Voldemort's power, that's all."  
  
"What?" Harry yelled as he ran over to his side. He looked over Ron's shoulder and tried to read the deciphered letter pairs, but had a great deal of difficulty picking out words.  
  
By/in co rp or at in g/t he/no vi ce s/or/ap 6p re nt ic es/na tu ra l/gi ft s/th e/D ar k/M as te r/I nc re as es/th e/d iv er si ty/an d/s tr en gt h/o f/h is/ow n/p ow er/an d/b in ds/th e/n ov ic e/t o/h im/fo r/a ll/ti me/It/is/cr uc ia l/f or/th e/M as te r/t he re fo re/to/se le ct/pu pi ls/wi th/th e/w id es t/v ar ie ty/of/sk il ls/an d/g if ts/Su c4 cE s6 sf ul/in co rp or at io n/is/be st/ac hi ev ed/wh en/th e/n ov ic e/i s/w il li ng/bu t/u nd er/ex tr ao rd in ar y/c ir cu ms ta nc es/it/ca n/b e/a ch ie ve d/w it ho ut/th e/c on se nt/of/ Th e/s ub je ct  
  
"Allow me," Ron offered sitting up straight and declaiming:  
  
_"By incorporating the novice's or apprentice's natural gifts the Master increases the diversity and strength of his own power and binds the novice to him for all time. It is crucial, therefore, for the Master to select pupils with the widest variety of skills and gifts. Successful incorporation is best achieved when the novice is willing, but under extraordinary circumstances it can be achieved without the consent of the subject."_  
  
Both boys fell silent and thought about the meaning of the words. "That's how he's grown so strong," Harry said seriously, "by acquiring the gifts of the deatheaters and who knows how many others."  
  
"He's not really a wizard at all then," Ron replied. "He's more like a community of wizards and witches."  
  
"We've got to stop him for good this time, or he'll just keep on getting stronger," Harry said resolutely. "We've got to find out how to reverse the incorporation!"

* * *

"Lucius Malfoy has just arrived at the eastern portal," Miranda said sitting forward suddenly in her chair.  
  
"Then the time for your meeting has arrived, my dear," Albus replied. "If you hurry you should be able to meet him in the corridor just west of there. It's an ideal place to talk - public but quiet - a place rarely frequented by students. I will assist by sealing the nearby doors, so it is unlikely that you will be disturbed."  
  
"Yes, you're right. That probably is safer than meeting in my office or room. Thanks, Albus," she said as she walked to the door of his office.  
  
As she left, he called after her, "And Miranda, remember, you should teeter right on the edge of the precipice. You're hand will be stronger when you get to Druben if they think that you almost came along willingly."  
  
Miranda entered the corridor and watched Lucius as he walked towards her. His hair and cloak flowed behind him as he clicked the stones with his walking stick in front of him like a blind man. He stopped a couple of meters away, waited to see how she would greet him and smiled contentedly as she ran her hands across his shoulders and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He drew her close and kissed her deeply. She was strong, but still so soft and warm and he imagined them laying together as he held her tight.  
  
His hopeful reverie ended when he asked, "So, have you decided to come back with me?" and she stiffened in his arms. He could he have been such a fool! He always knew that she would never go with back him, but he had deluded himself into thinking that she would. "Why not, Miranda? Just tell me, why not?" he pleaded  
  
"Because I will not help Voldemort destroy this world," she said slowly.  
  
"He doesn't want to . . ."  
  
"Then why is he preparing for war? Why doesn't he just stop fighting?"  
  
"And do what?" he demanded loudly "Wait to be executed by the Ministry after a secret trial? Another one of their travesties of justice! What would happen to the community then?"  
  
"You could make peace with your enemies and help it get back on track," she argued.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous! The Ministry will never make peace with Voldemort!"  
  
"Then let someone else lead! The community was never meant to have a permanent leader. You must know that Slytherin deemed the burden to be too great for one man.  
  
Lucius looked out over the path to the athletic fields as he shook his head. "That will never happen. He will never give it up," he replied quietly as he walked over to the windows.  
  
She came over to him and asked, "Tell me, what did you join for?"  
  
He smiled as he remembered, "To study with him, to learn from the scholars that flocked to him from around the world and to pursue Slytherin's ideas of community and magical unity."  
  
She nodded solemnly, "And how long has it been since you've done any scholarly work? Decades or only years?"  
  
"He has promised me that we will return to those things after the war."  
  
"And you believe him?" she cried incredulously  
  
"I have to believe that he still wants to . . ."  
  
"Well I'm sorry, Lucius, I don't. I don't think that he can see beyond the fighting and the killing!"  
  
"Miranda . . . please."  
  
She ran her hand gently down his arm and said, "If you told me that the principal concern of the community was to be the pursuit of unity, then I would help you, because I . . ."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I want to be with you," she said haltingly. "At least for a while."  
  
"Then come with me now. With your help, the war will come to a more swift and satisfactory end, and we will return to our original work in no time," he smiled as he put his arms around her. He felt her tremble as he touched her and asked, "That's not an act. You really do want me, don't you?"  
  
"Oh yes Lucius, I do! I do want you!" she said holding him tightly. "But I don't want Voldemort! I would follow you," she said stepping away from him, "But I cannot follow him."  
  
He stared back at her, sad and angry at his loss. "Well, there it is, then. I have failed to win you."  
  
"No Lucius, you have won . . ." 

"If that were true, you'd be coming with me now," he said bitterly.  
  
"Lucius, you ask for too much. If you asked me to go somewhere other than Druben, I would probably go with you. But being with me isn't enough for you is it?" she asked as she turned towards the window. "You want everything that I am to possess for your very own - as you are possessed by Him!" "That's not true! I do love you!" "But your love and your work are so closely bound that you cannot see where one begins and the other ends, can you?" "It's more than my work, Miranda. It's a way of life," he said coming up close behind her. "And yes, it does color everything we do. "But it's a beautiful way of life, and I want to share it with you'll - if you'll only let me." "But before the beauty comes the killing?" she said turning to face him. "I'm sorry Lucius, I just can't go with you - not now."  
  
He held her close for a long time as he slowly accepted his defeat. Then he said, Miranda, just listen for a moment. And please don't misunderstand me. I'm not trying to threaten you, just to explain to you how things really are. . ."  
  
He looked anxiously around the corridor, knowing that he shouldn't tell her. "He will not give up trying to get you to come east . . . willingly or otherwise."  
  
"What are you saying?"  
  
"I'm saying that if you come with me now, I can and will protect you. If, however, you are brought east by other means . . . I may not have the same degree of influence over how he treats you."  
  
"Oh, Lucius . . .no!" she cried in shock  
  
"Shhh. I will always try to help you . . . I may not be able to, that's all."  
  
"So, he will force me to join?"  
  
"Miranda, he wants to use your gifts for our strategic advantage, and he will not stop until he has you. He is relentless in pursuit of his goals. Come with me now. I'll take care of you. I promise that I will."  
  
She shook her head as she backed away from him again, "Look for me after the war . . . after Voldemort is gone," she replied as she turned to go.  
  
He watched her leave and stared out into the gathering darkness. He let his forehead rest against the castle's cold stones. He knew he ought to go and meet his son, but wallowed in his sadness until night finally fell.  
  
When finally he could stay there no longer, he went off to collect Draco. As he walked, he felt a great rage well up from deep inside him. He wanted his woman and his world and he wasn't willing to give up either one. "Nothing will stop me!" he growled as he swung his walking stick into the castle wall, breaking it in two.

* * *

"What's wrong son? Why so quiet?"  
  
Draco just shrugged and looked away as they walked across the field toward the portal.  
  
"Are you nervous about speaking with the Master for the first time?"  
  
"A little . . . but that's not it."  
  
"Well, if you want to talk about it. . ."  
  
Draco stopped and looked angrily at his father and said, "When I was coming back from quidditch this afternoon, I was going to come in the long hall on the east side and take the shortcut over to Slytherin - you know the one."  
  
"Yes, of course," Lucius replied with a cold streak of fear shooting up his spine.  
  
"But I had to change my route so I wouldn't disturb you and Professor Traveller."  
  
"Draco, you don't understand . . ."  
  
"No! I understand perfectly!" he yelled. "You don't love Mum at all - not even a little bit - and you just go from woman to woman looking for someone to love you. You know, when you told me about Mrs. Snape, I felt really sorry for you, and I could understand how you could still love her. But Traveller, I know you've only just met, and you're already all over her."  
  
"You understand a lot for someone your age."  
  
"The thing I hate most of all are the lies. Everyday of your life you're living this lie - and you've been living like this for who knows how long? Day-to-day you and Mum hardly even speak to each other, but every time someone comes to dinner you both perform this charade of marital bliss for them. I watched you and Traveller for a long time - you were so happy to be with her. I've never seen you look like that at home."  
  
"Not a word of this to your mother . . ."  
  
"Fine. Cover it up - another one of our little secrets. Pity you can't live up to your own principles."  
  
"Damn you!" Lucius yelled, and then glancing around to see if anyone was near, he continued in an angry whisper, "We all live like this! We all put social proprieties above personal satisfaction. That's the way the world works! You still have a lot to learn about it."  
  
"Yeah, maybe. But I'll never let anyone dictate my life."  
  
"Really? What would you do if you were in my shoes?"  
  
"Without a pause Draco answered, "Ask her to be released from the declaration. People do it all the time these days."  
  
"Not people in our circle, son."  
  
"Whose life is it? Yours or theirs?"  
  
Lucius heard his own voice in his mind answering, "A little bit of both," and realized how distasteful that would sound to Draco's sixteen-year-old sensibilities. He wanted an end to the hostilities, so he said, "Look son, the sophistication of your observations surprises me, and a few have made me think about things. But let's not argue any further at the moment." He slipped his arm around Draco's shoulders and magically persuaded him to stop. "We're already past due back home, and I don't want all this to disrupt your meeting this evening. If you want to talk about this some other time, I'll welcome the opportunity - assuming we can do so in private. Alright?"  
  
"OK," Draco murmured and walked towards the portal.  
  
In a few minutes they had traversed the long miles between Hogwarts and their manor and entered amid the bustling of the elves. Narcissa was waiting in the living room, pacing back and forth. When she saw them, her face brightened and she ran to Draco and gave him a big hug. Lucius got her usual near-smile and a peck on the cheek.  
  
"I was beginning to get worried about you," She said only to Draco.  
  
"I'm alright Mum, he said politely shrinking from her affections. "Dad and I just had some things to talk about, that's all."  
  
"What sort of things?" she asked with concern.  
  
"Nothing. Just . . . things."  
  
Beginning to get secretive just like his father, she thought. "Well you're here now, that's the important thing. Come along I've got a nice supper waiting."  
  
"So, what brings you home?" Narcissa asked as the servants withdrew from the table. "Your father never did tell me why you were visiting this weekend."  
  
"Umm . . . he wants me to meet one of his friends."  
  
"Friends?" she inquired with her eyes moving from her son to her husband.  
  
"Business associates, dear. Draco is getting old enough to start learning some of the tricks of the trade. We're going to have a long-distance chat with someone this evening."  
  
Narcissa's pale skin turned a ghostly white, and her silence fell like a shroud over the table.  
  
"Mum, are you alright?"  
  
"She's been a bit under the weather lately, son . . ."  
  
"If you think . . . that I am going to just sit back . . . and watch you ruin my son . . ." she began slowly.  
  
"Narcissa, whatever are you talking about?"  
  
"I'm talking about Him! He's back and you're with right by his side, aren't you?" the fear and hatred evident in her voice.  
  
"I think that's enough. We had better continue this conversation after dinner."  
  
"You do what you want with your own life, Lucius Malfoy. But you'll have to go through me first if you want to drag Draco down with you."  
  
"Narcissa, please - not in front of . . ."  
  
"I won't be there for you this time. . . I swear I won't be . . ."  
  
Lucius threw his silverware down, pulled Narcissa to her feet and ran up the stairs two at a time, pulling her up with him. Draco heard their door slam, and ran upstairs to listen.  
  
"How dare you speak like that in front of him," Lucius began loudly.  
  
"You have no right to do this to him," she said through her tears.  
  
"I have every right in the world - he's my son! And besides, Draco wants to meet him."  
  
"But Lucius, he has no idea what it all means. He thinks a little extra power would be a good thing, maybe help him at school or with the girls. He has no idea that he will be paying with his life, and he can never, ever change his mind and live peaceably again."  
  
"You have no idea what you're talking about!"  
  
"Yes I do! And he has no idea what he will be ordered to do - the killings, the brutality and intimidation of innocent wizards and witches."  
  
Narcissa rose from the bed and paced as she continuing angrily, "You didn't know that I knew - did you? Then you must have taken me for a fool all these years. How could I not know? Those blood-stained ghouls you call 'business associates' that you drag through here at all hours of the night." Then her voice sank to a near whisper as she threatened, "I won't allow you to introduce him to that life, and I won't wait quietly by like a dutiful wife during the next round of trials. I'll release you from our declaration - I swear I will."  
  
Lucius sighed as he sank down sideways into one of the plush chairs and draped his long legs over the arm, "I really wish you would release me right now."  
  
"Oh? Have you finally convinced Madeline Snape to run off with you? Or is there someone else? One of your little friends?"  
  
"Not Madeline, not one of my friends. I'm just tired of living this lie. You don't love me and I don't love you. Isn't it time we both had a chance at a little happiness?"  
  
Madeline stood at her mirror watching him in it as he spoke. Then, in a sweep of her hand brushed all of her perfumes and trinkets from the tabletop except for one - the freesia - his favorite scent - that one she hurled at the mirror, thoroughly smashing it.  
  
"Not only do I not love you, I hate you, and I have for years and years," she yelled. I tried so hard when we were first married to be the wife that you wanted me to be. I remade myself to fit in to this world of yours. And what thanks did I get? Endless lonely nights with you gone - killing in his name. Every now and then you'd remember to come home for one night. At first I was happy to see you, grateful for your touch. Then I became repulsed by you and barely endured the nights. And at the end of it all, you were paraded around in a public trial for war crimes. In our one private meeting you begged me to protect you - so I lied for you. I supported your claim that you were cursed, when all the while I knew that you were his eager accomplice. You walked free on my lies, and when all of the finger pointing was through, you finally spent enough time with me to give me Draco - my one salvation in this miserable life."  
  
She sat down on the tufted bench in front of her table and began to weep. Lucius began a round of applause and called out loudly, "Lovely performance! Beautifully realized! Pity so bloody little of it was true!"  
  
"You went into this marriage with your eyes wide open. You knew that I was getting older and my family was putting pressure on me to find a wife - any wife and produce a child. I set my sights on you because you looked like Madeline. If I couldn't marry her, I would marry someone who looked like her. You agreed to choose me, because, frankly I offered far better security for your impoverished bloodline than you could have hoped for in your wildest dreams. And at the time you were grateful to be liberated from a life of hard work." Then he rose to his feet and paced around the room, continuing louder, "Don't pretend that we were a love match. I've never loved you. I thought I might have started to around the time that you were carrying Draco. But when he was born, I realized that it was him that I really loved, not you."  
  
He paused in front of the mirror to look at himself, but it was broken, "And as to my lifestyle and activities, I made those as plain as I could to you before we were married. You knew I was rarely here, but your avarice moved you to receive my declaration anyway. You could have made a decent life for yourself, if you'd done something worthwhile with all of that time on your hands rather than blame me for everything that wasn't right in your life." He sat back down in the chair and said quietly, "As to the favors you did for me when I was on trial, those are things that I am deeply thankful for and will remain so for the rest of my life."  
  
A deep silence filled the room for several minutes as Lucius placed Narcissa in a deep sleep so she wouldn't interfere with his meeting. Then Draco heard his father's firm footsteps trodding towards the door and he leapt around the corner to avoid him. Lucius shut the door and went down the steps calling the elves to bring more supper as he did. 

* * *

"Come son, its almost time," Lucius called softly as he tapped on Draco's door.  
  
"There you are. . . are you alright?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm OK," he said, though he was now uneasy about meeting Voldemort.  
  
"Listen, I'm sorry about what happened between your Mum and me, sorry you had to hear it."  
  
Draco just shrugged and walked on.  
  
Like many of the older manors, the Malfoy home still had a tower - once used for observing the heavens and activities in the surrounding countryside. Lucius' father had masons close the tower windows and now it was his private study. A turn of ancient metal keys and the slide of a bolt and they went through the old oak door. Draco had only seen the inside of the room through the crack in the door, but had never been allowed to enter before. Torches and candles illuminated the walls and tables, and in the center of the room a large circular table held a dimly glowing crystal sphere - Lucius' Palantir - from which he sent and received communications to Voldemort.  
  
Lucius sat down at the Palantir first and placed his hand around it without touching it. He closed his eyes and called to his Master with his mind. After a few minutes the Palantir began to glow more brightly as shadows passed across its curved surface. Its light continued to glow more intensely, and eventually Draco had to shield his eyes with his hands, as he continued to watch.  
  
After a few more minutes, Lucius' eyes sprang open and a small smile spread slowly over his face. The face of a man appeared. Draco could see that he had dark brown hair that fell with a slight wave to his chin, strong angular jaw, high forehead with long straight brows and bright eyes of undetermined color. At times they looked a dark sea blue, and when he turned his head, perhaps they seemed brown or even a dark hazel. He was, for all intensive purposes, an attractive man, but there was something about him that frightened Draco. Perhaps it was the hardness of those multicolored eyes that looked like the glint of sunlight off a dagger, or the smooth plasticity of his skin that didn't seem quite human. Draco's attention turned to that mellifluous voice, speaking to his father. Sometime it seemed soft and harmonious like a woman's, and at other times it had a rough, nasal quality that was definitively masculine. Throughout his consideration of Voldemort's features, he had crept forward - drawn by him - until he now was standing at Lucius' shoulder.  
  
"Is that your son?" Voldemort asked, knowing the answer.  
  
"Yes," Lucius smiled, looking proudly at Draco.  
  
"Let me speak with him."  
  
"As you wish, my Lord."  
  
Voldemort looked at Draco for a long time in silence assessing his features and the quality and strength of his intellect, perseverance and will.  
  
"Don't be frightened of me Draco, I mean you no harm," were the first soft words to pass his lips.  
  
"I'm . . . not fright . .."  
  
"Yes you are! Don't lie!" came the Master's harsh reply. "Don't ever lie, I'll always know," he said more calmly. "You are considering joining us as a novice, is that correct?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"You have many of your father's characteristics, and would be a strong addition to our community, but you are young and still not sure you want to follow us."  
  
"Yes. That's right."  
  
Voldemort relaxed and sat back as he said, "Well then, perhaps the time is not yet right. You must want to serve, Draco. You must be willing with every fiber of your being. We can work with you, show you the benefits of our way of life and the freedom it offers. Then perhaps you will become enthusiastic about our work."  
  
"I'd like that, sir."  
  
"Very good. I will discuss with your father plans to bring you east during your next break from school. You can spend some time with us and see for yourself what we do, that way you'll never have to believe the lies of those close at hand."  
  
Lucius clenched his fists at Voldemort's words. He knew that Narcissa's words had made an impression on Draco and had frightened him. He placed his hand roughly on Draco's shoulder and scowled at him, indicating that the interview was over.  
  
"I'm terribly sorry for wasting your time, Master," Lucius began penitently.  
  
"Not a waste of time, Lucius. Just a bit early. You need to work with him more. Sebastian had difficulty convincing Severus to follow - but eventually he came into the flock."  
  
"His mother cautioned him about following you, and frightened him - just this even. . . "  
  
"Yes, I know Lucius. I read the event in his eyes."  
  
Draco stepped back from the Palantir. He knew that Lucius was furious and didn't look forward to the row that was likely to follow. He wanted to just leave quietly, but knew that would be the worst thing he could do. Better to stay and face him.  
  
"What of the telepath, Lucius?"  
  
Lucius just looked away and shook his head sadly.  
  
"Ah . . . she is going to make it difficult for us, isn't she?  
  
"She says that she embraces Slytherin's ideas . . . but she does not wish to assist our war effort. She said she will join us after the fighting is through . . ."  
  
"I don't want her after the war, Lucius. I want her now!" he yelled angrily. "Tell Snape to ready his plans and bring her east at his first opportunity."  
  
"Yes Master, I . . .I know that I am in no position to ask favors of you . . .but . . ."  
  
"Don't worry, Lucius. She is worth far more to us alive than dead. I will be patient with her, especially since she seems to have at least some sympathy for our cause."  
  
"You are most generous . . . Master. I'm sorry I failed you."  
  
"Not failed, Lucius. Never failed."  
  
"Thank you, my Lord," Lucius said bowing his head and closing the connection. He shook his head as if from a dream and turned to see a frightened Draco backing away from him.  
  
"What's wrong son?"  
  
"What . . . what are you going to do to Professor Traveller?" he asked loudly  
  
"Nothing, just try to convince her to join our side," Lucius said smiling in an effort to calm him.  
  
"I thought everyone was supposed to be willing," he said as he edged closer to the door. That's what you've always told me."  
  
"Well, strictly speaking that's how it is. But on occasion, we have to do a little more convincing than usual."  
  
"You're going to kidnap her, aren't you? Force her to fight for you."  
  
"I'll do no such thing. I'm very fond of her and don't want anything bad . . ."  
  
"Snape is going to do it! I heard him tell you."  
  
"Now Draco . . . there are a lot of things you don't understand . . ."  
  
"You're a fiend! I'll never follow you! Never!" Draco shouted as he ran down the steps away and off to a far corner of the manor.  
  
"We'll just see about that now, won't we?" Lucius menaced as he stalked down the steps after him. He grabbed his cloak and wand and swept out of the manor, pausing only when he was far from the house to gaze up at the stars. The dipper shone overhead and at this late hour Orion rose over the eastern horizon. He sat beneath one of the patriarchal oaks on his property, and reflected on the events of the evening. He had spent most of his life in a loveless marriage, but only tonight did he learn the depth of Narcissa's hatred for him. And now Draco, the real love of his life, despised him too. There had always been someone to go back to, and now there was no one - except maybe Miranda. After long contemplation, he walked back to the portal and towards Hogwarts.  
  
With great stealth, he opened the Pass into Miranda's room just a crack and watched her sleeping on her bed of quilts and fur. He watched the blankets rise and fall, and he waved his left hand over her body as if caressing her. She woke suddenly, having sensed him and looked around the room. Then she reached out and whispered, "Lucius, I know you're there. Please, come to me."  
  
He closed his eyes and thought that only a few hours earlier he would have eagerly welcomed her invitation. But now, everything had changed. Until she had agreed to help their war effort, her life was in Voldemort's hands - not his. He stroked her one last time, closed the Pass and continued eastward.  
  
End of Part I of A Traveller's Tale.  
  
To be continued . . . 


End file.
